TANCRED

OR

THE NEW CRUSADE

By Benjamin Disraeli

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CHAPTER I. 

 _A Matter of Importance_

IN THAT part of the celebrated parish of St. George which is bounded onone side by Piccadilly and on the other by Curzon Street, is a districtof a peculiar character. 'Tis cluster of small streets of little houses, frequently intersected by mews, which here are numerous, and sometimesgradually, rather than abruptly, terminating in a ramification of thosemysterious regions. Sometimes a group of courts develops itself, andyou may even chance to find your way into a small market-place. Those, however, who are accustomed to connect these hidden residences ofthe humble with scenes of misery and characters of violence, need notapprehend in this district any appeal to their sympathies, or any shockto their tastes. All is extremely genteel; and there is almost as muchrepose as in the golden saloons of the contiguous palaces. At any rate, if there be as much vice, there is as little crime. 

No sight or sound can be seen or heard at any hour, which could pain themost precise or the most fastidious. Even if a chance oath may float onthe air from the stable-yard to the lodging of a French cook, 'tis ofthe newest fashion, and, if responded to with less of novel charm, therepartee is at least conveyed in the language of the most polite ofnations. They bet upon the Derby in these parts a little, are interestedin Goodwood, which they frequent, have perhaps, in general, a weaknessfor play, live highly, and indulge those passions which luxury andrefinement encourage; but that is all. 

A policeman would as soon think of reconnoitring these secluded streetsas of walking into a house in Park Lane or Berkeley Square, to which, in fact, this population in a great measure belongs. For here reside thewives of house-stewards and of butlers, in tenements furnished by thehonest savings of their husbands, and let in lodgings to increase theirswelling incomes; here dwells the retired servant, who now devoteshis practised energies to the occasional festival, which, with hisaccumulations in the three per cents. , or in one of the public-houses ofthe quarter, secures him at the same time an easy living, and the casualenjoyment of that great world which lingers in his memory. Here may befound his grace's coachman, and here his lordship's groom, who keeps abook and bleeds periodically too speculative footmen, by betting oddson his master's horses. But, above all, it is in this district thatthe cooks have ever sought a favourite and elegant abode. An air ofstillness and serenity, of exhausted passions and suppressed emotion, rather than of sluggishness and of dullness, distinguishes this quarterduring the day. 

When you turn from the vitality and brightness of Piccadilly, thepark, the palace, the terraced mansions, the sparkling equipages, thecavaliers cantering up the hill, the swarming multitude, and enterthe region of which we are speaking, the effect is at first almostunearthly. Not a carriage, not a horseman, scarcely a passenger; thereseems some great and sudden collapse in the metropolitan system, as ifa pest had been announced, or an enemy were expected in alarm by avanquished capital. The approach from Curzon Street has not this effect. Hyde Park has still about it something of Arcadia. There are woods andwaters, and the occasional illusion of an illimitable distance of sylvanjoyance. The spirit is allured to gentle thoughts as we wander in whatis still really a lane, and, turning down Stanhope Street, behold thathouse which the great Lord Chesterfield tells us, in one of his letters, he was 'building among the fields. ' The cawing of the rooks in hisgardens sustains the tone of mind, and Curzon Street, after a long, straggling, sawney course, ceasing to be a thoroughfare, and losingitself in the gardens of another palace, is quite in keeping with allthe accessories. 

In the night, however, the quarter of which we are speaking is alive. The manners of the population follow those of their masters. They keeplate hours. The banquet and the ball dismiss them to their homes at atime when the trades of ordinary regions move in their last sleep, anddream of opening shutters and decking the windows of their shops. 

At night, the chariot whirls round the frequent corners of these littlestreets, and the opening valves of the mews vomit forth their legionof broughams. At night, too, the footman, taking advantage of a ballat Holdernesse, or a concert at Lansdowne House, and knowing that, in either instance, the link-boy will answer when necessary for hissummoned name, ventures to look in at his club, reads the paper, talksof his master or his mistress, and perhaps throws a main. The shops ofthis district, depending almost entirely for their custom on the classeswe have indicated, and kept often by their relations, follow the orderof the place, and are most busy when other places of business areclosed. 

A gusty March morning had subsided into a sunshiny afternoon, nearly twoyears ago, when a young man, slender, above the middle height, with aphysiognomy thoughtful yet delicate, his brown hair worn long, slightwhiskers, on his chin a tuft, knocked at the door of a house inCarrington Street, May Fair. His mien and his costume denoted acharacter of the class of artists. He wore a pair of green trousers, braided with a black stripe down their sides, puckered towards thewaist, yet fitting with considerable precision to the boot of Frenchleather that enclosed a well-formed foot. His waistcoat was of maroonvelvet, displaying a steel watch-chain of refined manufacture, and ablack satin cravat, with a coral brooch. His bright blue frockcoat wasfrogged and braided like his trousers. As the knocker fell from theprimrose-coloured glove that screened his hand, he uncovered, andpassing his fingers rapidly through his hair, resumed his new silk hat, which he placed rather on one side of his head. 

'Ah! Mr. Leander, is it you?' exclaimed a pretty girl, who opened thedoor and blushed. 

'And how is the good papa, Eugenie? Is he at home? For I want to see himmuch. '

'I will show you up to him at once, Mr. Leander, for he will be veryhappy to see you. We have been thinking of hearing of you, ' she added, talking as she ushered her guest up the narrow staircase. 'The good papahas a little cold: 'tis not much, I hope; caught at Sir Wallinger's, alarge dinner; they would have the kitchen windows open, which spoilt allthe entrées, and papa got a cold; but I think, perhaps, it is as muchvexation as anything else, you know if anything goes wrong, especiallywith the entrées------'

'He feels as a great artist must, ' said Leander, finishing her sentence. 'However, I am not sorry at this moment to find him a prisoner, for Iam pressed to see him. It is only this morning that I have returned fromMr. Coningsby's at Hellingsley: the house full, forty covers everyday, and some judges. One does not grudge one's labour if we areappreciated, ' added Leander; 'but I have had my troubles. One of mymarmitons has disappointed me: I thought I had a genius, but on thethird day he lost his head; and had it not been---- Ah! good papa, 'he exclaimed, as the door opened, and he came forward and warmly shookthe hand of a portly man, advanced in middle life, sitting in an easychair, with a glass of sugared water by his side, and reading a Frenchnewspaper in his chamber robe, and with a white cotton nightcap on hishead. 

'Ah! my child, ' said Papa Prevost, 'is it you? You see me a prisoner;Eugenie has told you; a dinner at a merchant's; dressed in a draught;everything spoiled, and I------' and sighing, Papa Prevost sipped his_eau sucrée_. 

'We have all our troubles, ' said Leander, in a consoling tone; 'butwe will not speak now of vexations. I have just come from the country;Daubuz has written to me twice; he was at my house last night; I foundhim on my steps this morning. There is a grand affair on the tapis. The son of the Duke of Bellamont comes of age at Easter; it is to be abusiness of the thousand and one nights; the whole county to be feasted. Camacho's wedding will do for the peasantry; roasted oxen, and acapon in every platter, with some fountains of ale and good Porto. Ourmarmitons, too, can easily serve the provincial noblesse; but there isto be a party at the Castle, of double cream; princes of the blood, high relatives and grandees of the Golden Fleece. The duke's cook is notequal to the occasion. 'Tis an hereditary chef who gives dinners of thetime of the continental blockade. They have written to Daubuz to sendthem the first artist of the age, ' said Leander; 'and, ' added he, withsome hesitation, 'Daubuz has written to me. '

'And he did quite right, my child, ' said Prevost, 'for there is not aman in Europe that is your equal. What do they say? That Abreu rivalsyou in flavour, and that Gaillard has not less invention. But who cancombine _goût_ with new combinations? 'Tis yourself, Leander; and thereis no question, though you have only twenty-five years, that you are thechef of the age. '

'You are always very good to me, sir, ' said Leander, bending his headwith great respect; 'and I will not deny that to be famous when you areyoung is the fortune of the gods. But we must never forget that I had anadvantage which Abreu and Gaillard had not, and that I was your pupil. '

'I hope that I have not injured you, ' said Papa Prevost, with an air ofproud self-content. 'What you learned from me came at least from a goodschool. It is something to have served under Napoleon, ' added Prevost, with the grand air of the Imperial kitchen. 'Had it not been forWaterloo, I should have had the cross. But the Bourbons and the cooksof the Empire never could understand each other: They brought over anemigrant chef, who did not comprehend the taste of the age. He wished tobring everything back to the time of the _oeil de bouf_. When Monsieurpassed my soup of Austerlitz untasted, I knew the old family was doomed. But we gossip. You wished to consult me?'

'I want not only your advice but your assistance. This affair of theDuke of Bellamont requires all our energies. I hope you will accompanyme; and, indeed, we must muster all our forces. It is not to be deniedthat there is a want, not only of genius, but of men, in our art. Thecooks are like the civil engineers: since the middle class have taken togiving dinners, the demand exceeds the supply. '

'There is Andrien, ' said Papa Prevost; 'you had some hopes of him?'

'He is too young; I took him to Hellingsley, and he lost his head onthe third day. I entrusted the soufflées to him, and, but for the mostdesperate personal exertions, all would have been lost. It was an affairof the bridge of Areola. '

'Ah! _mon Dieu!_ those are moments!' exclaimed Prevost. 'Gaillard andAbreu will not serve under you, eh? And if they would, they could not betrusted. They would betray you at the tenth hour. '

'What I want are generals of division, not commanders-in-chief. Abreu issufficiently _bon garçon_, but he has taken an engagement with Monsieurde Sidonia, and is not permitted to go out. '

'With Monsieur de Sidonia! You once thought of that, my Leander. Andwhat is his salary?'

'Not too much; four hundred and some perquisites. It would not suit me;besides, I will take no engagement but with a crowned head. But Abreulikes travelling, and he has his own carriage, which pleases him. '

'There are Philippon and Dumoreau, ' said Prevost; 'they are very safe. '

'I was thinking of them, ' said Leander, 'they are safe, under you. And there is an Englishman, Smit, he is chef at Sir Stanley's, but hismaster is away at this moment. He has talent. '

'Yourself, four chefs, with your marmitons; it would do, ' said Prevost. 

'For the kitchen, ' said Leander; 'but who is to dress the tables?'

'A-h!' exclaimed Papa Prevost, shaking his head. 

'Daubuz' head man, Trenton, is the only one I could trust; and he wantsfancy, though his style is broad and bold. He made a pyramid of pinesrelieved with grapes, without destroying the outline, very good, thislast week, at Hellingsley. But Trenton has been upset on the railroad, and much injured. Even if he recover, his hand will tremble so for thenext month that! could have no confidence in him. '

'Perhaps you might find some one at the Duke's?'

'Out of the question!' said Leander; 'I make it always a conditionthat the head of every department shall be appointed by myself. I takePellerini with me for the confectionery. How often have I seen theeffect of a first-rate dinner spoiled by a vulgar dessert! laid flat onthe table, for example, or with ornaments that look as if they had beenhired at a pastrycook's: triumphal arches, and Chinese pagodas, andsolitary pines springing up out of ice-tubs surrounded with peaches, asif they were in the window of a fruiterer of Covent Garden. '

'Ah! it is incredible what uneducated people will do, ' said Prevost. 'The dressing of the tables was a department of itself in the Imperialkitchen. '

'It demands an artist of a high calibre, ' said Leander. 'I know onlyone man who realises my idea, and he is at St. Petersburg. You do notknow Anastase? There is a man! But the Emperor has him secure. He canscarcely complain, however, since he is decorated, and has the rank offull colonel. '

'Ah!' said Prevost, mournfully, 'there is no recognition of genius inthis country. What think you of Vanesse, my child? He has had a regulareducation. '

'In a bad school: as a pis aller one might put up with him. But hiseternal tiers of bonbons! As if they were ranged for a supper of theCarnival, and my guests were going to pelt each other! No, I could notstand Vanesse, papa. '

'The dressing of the table: 'tis a rare talent, ' said Prevost, mournfully, 'and always was. In the Imperial kitchen------'

'Papa, ' said Eugenie, opening the door, and putting in her head, 'hereis Monsieur Vanillette just come from Brussels. He has brought you abasket of truffles from Ardennes. I told him you were on business, butto-night, if you be at home, he could come. '

'Vanillette!' exclaimed Prevost, starting in his chair, 'our littleVanillette! There is your man, Le-ander. He was my first pupil, as youwere my last, my child. Bring up our little Vanillette, Eugenie. He isin the household of King Leopold, and his forte is dressing the table!'

CHAPTER II. 

 _The House of Bellamont_

THE Duke of Bellamont was a personage who, from his rank, his blood, andhis wealth, might almost be placed at the head of the English nobility. Although the grandson of a mere country gentleman, his fortunateancestor, in the decline of the last century, had captivated the heiressof the Montacutes, Dukes of Bellamont, a celebrated race of the timesof the Plantagenets. The bridegroom, at the moment of his marriage, had adopted the illustrious name of his young and beautiful wife. Mr. Montacute was by nature a man of energy and of an enterprising spirit. His vast and early success rapidly developed his native powers. With thecastles and domains and boroughs of the Bellamonts, he resolved also toacquire their ancient baronies and their modern coronets. The times werefavourable to his projects, though they might require the devotion ofa life. He married amid the disasters of the American war. The king andhis minister appreciated the independent support afforded them by Mr. Montacute, who represented his county, and who commanded five votesin the House besides his own. He was one of the chief pillars of theircause; but he was not only independent, he was conscientious and hadscruples. Saratoga staggered him. The defection of the Montacute votes, at this moment, would have at once terminated the struggle betweenEngland and her colonies. A fresh illustration of the advantages ofour parliamentary constitution! The independent Mr. Montacute, however, stood by his sovereign; his five votes continued to cheer the noble lordin the blue ribbon, and their master took his seat and the oaths in theHouse of Lords, as Earl of Bellamont and Viscount Montacute. This mightbe considered sufficiently well for one generation; but the silver spoonwhich some fairy had placed in the cradle of the Earl of Bellamont wasof colossal proportions. The French Revolution succeeded the Americanwar, and was occasioned by it. It was but just, therefore, that it alsoshould bring its huge quota to the elevation of the man whom a colonialrevolt had made an earl. Amid the panic of Jacobinism, the declamationsof the friends of the people, the sovereign having no longer Hanover fora refuge, and the prime minister examined as a witness in favour of thevery persons whom he was trying for high treason, the Earl of Bellamontmade a calm visit to Downing Street, and requested the revival of allthe honours of the ancient Earls and Dukes of Bellamont in his ownperson. Mr. Pitt, who was far from favourable to the exclusive characterwhich distinguished the English peerage in the last century, washimself not disinclined to accede to the gentle request of his powerfulsupporter; but the king was less flexible. His Majesty, indeed, was onprinciple not opposed to the revival of titles in families to whom thedomains without the honours of the old nobility had descended; and herecognised the claim of the present Earls of Bellamont eventually toregain the strawberry leaf which had adorned the coronet of the fatherof the present countess. But the king was of opinion that this supremedistinction ought only to be conferred on the blood of the old house, and that a generation, therefore, must necessarily elapse before aDuke of Bellamont could again figure in the golden book of the Englisharistocracy. 

But George the Third, with all his firmness, was doomed to frequentdiscomfiture. His lot was cast in troubled waters, and he had often todeal with individuals as inflexible as himself. Benjamin Franklin wasnot more calmly contumacious than the individual whom his treason hadmade an English peer. In that age of violence, change and panic, power, directed by a clear brain and an obdurate spirit, could not fail of itsaim; and so it turned out, that, in the very teeth of the royal will, the simple country gentleman, whose very name was forgotten, became, at the commencement of this century, Duke of Bellamont, Marquis ofMontacute, Earl of Bellamont, Dacre, and Villeroy, with all the baroniesof the Plantagenets in addition. The only revenge of the king was, thathe never would give the Duke of Bellamont the garter. It was as wellperhaps that there should be something for his son to desire. 

The Duke and Duchess of Bellamont were the handsomest couple in England, and devoted to each other, but they had only one child. Fortunately, that child was a son. Precious life! The Marquis of Montacute wasmarried before he was of age. Not a moment was to be lost to find heirsfor all these honours. Perhaps, had his parents been less precipitate, their object might have been more securely obtained. The union' was nota happy one. The first duke had, however, the gratification of dying agrandfather. His successor bore no resemblance to him, except in thatbeauty which became a characteristic of the race. He was born to enjoy, not to create. A man of pleasure, the chosen companion of the Regent inhis age of riot, he was cut off in his prime; but he lived long enoughto break his wife's heart and his son's spirit; like himself, too, anonly child. 

The present Duke of Bellamont had inherited something of the clearintelligence of his grandsire, with the gentle disposition of hismother. His fair abilities, and his benevolent inclinations, had beencultivated. His mother had watched over the child, in whom she foundalike the charm and consolation of her life. But, at a certain period ofyouth, the formation of character requires a masculine impulse, and thatwas wanting. The duke disliked his son; in time he became even jealousof him. The duke had found himself a father at too early a period oflife. Himself in his lusty youth, he started with alarm at the form thatrecalled his earliest and most brilliant hour, and who might prove arival. The son was of a gentle and affectionate nature, and sighed forthe tenderness of his harsh and almost vindictive parent. But he had notthat passionate soul which might have appealed, and perhaps not in vain, to the dormant sympathies of the being who had created him. The youngMontacute was by nature of an extreme shyness, and the accidents of hislife had not tended to dissipate his painful want of self-confidence. Physically courageous, his moral timidity was remarkable. He alternatelyblushed or grew pale in his rare interviews with his father, trembledin silence before the undeserved sarcasm, and often endured the unjustaccusation without an attempt to vindicate himself. Alone, and intears alike of woe and indignation, he cursed the want of resolution orability which had again missed the opportunity that, both for his motherand himself, might have placed affairs in a happier position. Mostpersons, under these circumstances, would have become bitter, butMontacute was too tender for malice, and so he only turned melancholy. On the threshold of manhood, Montacute lost his mother, and this seemedthe catastrophe of his unhappy life. His father neither shared hisgrief, nor attempted to alleviate it. On the contrary, he seemed toredouble his efforts to mortify his son. His great object was to preventLord Montacute from entering society, and he was so complete a masterof the nervous temperament on which he was acting that there appeareda fair chance of his succeeding in his benevolent intentions. When hisson's education was completed, the duke would not furnish him with themeans of moving in the world in a becoming manner, or even sanction histravelling. His Grace was resolved to break his son's spirit by keepinghim immured in the country. Other heirs apparent of a rich seignorywould soon have removed these difficulties. By bill or by bond, byliving usury, or by post-obit liquidation, by all the means that privatefriends or public offices could supply, the sinews of war would havebeen forthcoming. They would have beaten their fathers' horses atNewmarket, eclipsed them with their mistresses, and, sitting for theirboroughs, voted against their party. But Montacute was not one of thoseyoung heroes who rendered so distinguished the earlier part of thiscentury. He had passed his life so much among women and clergymen thathe had never emancipated himself from the old law that enjoined himto honour a parent. Besides, with all his shyness and timidity, he wasextremely proud. He never forgot that he was a Montacute, though he hadforgotten, like the world in general, that his grandfather once bore adifferent and humbler name. All merged in the great fact, that he wasthe living representative of those Montacutes of Bellamont, whose wildand politic achievements, or the sustained splendour of whose statelylife had for seven hundred years formed a stirring and superb portionof the history and manners of our country. Death was preferable, inhis view, to having such a name soiled in the haunts of jockeys andcourtesans and usurers; and, keen as was the anguish which the conductof the duke to his mother or himself had often occasioned him, itwas sometimes equalled in degree by the sorrow and the shame which heendured when he heard of the name of Bellamont only in connection withsome stratagem of the turf or some frantic revel. Without a friend, almost without an acquaintance, Montacute sought refuge in love. She whoshed over his mournful life the divine ray of feminine sympathy washis cousin, the daughter of his mother's brother, an English peer, butresident in the north of Ireland, where he had vast possessions. It wasa family otherwise little calculated to dissipate the reserve and gloomof a depressed and melancholy youth; puritanical, severe and formal intheir manners, their relaxations a Bible Society, or a meeting for theconversion of the Jews. But Lady Katherine was beautiful, and all werekind to one to whom kindness was strange, and the soft pathos of whosesolitary spirit demanded affection. 

Montacute requested his father's permission to marry his cousin, and wasimmediately refused. The duke particularly disliked his wife's family;but the fact is, he had no wish that his son should ever marry. He meantto perpetuate his race himself, and was at this moment, in the midst ofhis orgies, meditating a second alliance, which should compensate himfor his boyish blunder. In this state of affairs, Montacute, at lengthstung to resistance, inspired by the most powerful of passions, andacted upon by a stronger volition than his own, was planning a marriagein spite of his father (love, a cottage by an Irish lake, and sevenhundred a-year) when intelligence arrived that his father, whosepowerful frame and vigorous health seemed to menace a patriarchal term, was dead. 

The new Duke of Bellamont had no experience of the world; but, thoughlong cowed by his father, he had a strong character. Though the circleof his ideas was necessarily contracted, they were all clear and firm. In his moody youth he had imbibed certain impressions and arrived atcertain conclusions, and they never quitted him. His mother was hismodel of feminine perfection, and he had loved his cousin because shebore a remarkable resemblance to her aunt. Again, he was of opinionthat the tie between the father and the son ought to be one of intimateconfidence and refined tenderness, and he resolved that, if Providencefavoured him with offspring, his child should ever find in him absolutedevotion of thought and feeling. 

A variety of causes and circumstances had impressed him with aconviction that what is called fashionable life was a compound offrivolity and fraud, of folly and vice; and he resolved never to enterit. To this he was, perhaps, in some degree unconsciously prompted byhis reserved disposition, and by his painful sense of inexperience, forhe looked forward to this world with almost as much of apprehensionas of dislike. To politics, in the vulgar sense of the word, he had anequal repugnance. He had a lofty idea of his duty to his sovereign andhis country, and felt within him the energies that would respond to aconjuncture. But he acceded to his title in a period of calmness, whennothing was called in question, and no danger was apprehended; and asfor the fights of factions, the duke altogether held himself aloof fromthem; he wanted nothing, not even the blue ribbon which he was soonobliged to take. Next to his domestic hearth, all his being wasconcentrated in his duties as a great proprietor of the soil. Onthese he had long pondered, and these he attempted to fulfil. Thatperformance, indeed, was as much a source of delight to him as ofobligation. He loved the country and a country life. His reserve seemedto melt away the moment he was on his own soil. Courteous he everwas, but then he became gracious and hearty. He liked to assemble 'thecounty' around him; to keep 'the county' together; 'the county' seemedalways his first thought; he was proud of 'the county, ' where he reignedsupreme, not more from his vast possessions than from the influence ofhis sweet yet stately character, which made those devoted to him whootherwise were independent of his sway. 

From straitened circumstances, and without having had a single fancy ofyouth gratified, the Duke of Bellamont had been suddenly summoned tothe lordship of an estate scarcely inferior in size and revenue tosome continental principalities; to dwell in palaces and castles, tobe surrounded by a disciplined retinue, and to find every wish and wantgratified before they could be expressed or anticipated. Yet he showedno elation, and acceded to his inheritance as serene as if he had neverfelt a pang or proved a necessity. She whom in the hour of trial he hadselected for the future partner of his life, though a remarkable woman, by a singular coincidence of feeling, for it was as much from heroriginal character as from sympathy with her husband, confirmed him inall his moods. 

Katherine, Duchess of Bellamont, was beautiful: small and delicate instructure, with a dazzling complexion, and a smile which, though rare, was of the most winning and brilliant character. Her rich brown hairand her deep blue eye might have become a dryad; but her brow denotedintellect of a high order, and her mouth spoke inexorable resolution. She was a woman of fixed opinions, and of firm and compact prejudices. Brought up in an austere circle, where on all matters irrevocablejudgment had been passed, which enjoyed the advantages of knowingexactly what was true in dogma, what just in conduct, and what correctin manners, she had early acquired the convenient habit of decision, while her studious mind employed its considerable energies in masteringevery writer who favoured those opinions which she had previouslydetermined were the right ones. 

The duchess was deep in the divinity of the seventeenth century. In thecontroversies between the two churches, she could have perplexed St. Omers or Maynooth. Chillingworth might be found her boudoir. Not thather Grace's reading was confined to divinity; on the contrary, it wasvarious and extensive. Puritan in religion, she was precisian in morals;but in both she was sincere. She was so in all things. Her nature wasfrank and simple; if she were inflexible, she at least wished to bejust; and though very conscious of the greatness of her position, shewas so sensible of its duties that there was scarcely any exertion whichshe would evade, or any humility from which she would shrink, if shebelieved she were doing her duty to her God or to her neighbour. 

It will be seen, therefore, that the Duke of Bellamont found no obstaclein his wife, who otherwise much influenced his conduct, to the planswhich he had pre-conceived for the conduct of his life after marriage. The duchess shrank, with a feeling of haughty terror from that world offashion which would have so willingly greeted her. During the greaterpart of the year, therefore, the Bellamonts resided in their magnificentcastle, in their distant county, occupied with all the business andthe pleasures of the provinces. While the duke, at the head of themagistracy, in the management of his estates, and in the sports of whichhe was fond, found ample occupation, his wife gave an impulse to thecharity of the county, founded schools, endowed churches, receivedtheir neighbours, read her books, and amused herself in the creation ofbeautiful gardens, for which she had a passion. 

After Easter, Parliament requiring their presence, the courtyard of oneof the few palaces in London opened, and the world learnt that the Dukeand Duchess of Bellamont had arrived at Bellamont House, from MontacuteCastle. During their stay in town, which they made as brief as theywell could, and which never exceeded three months, they gave a seriesof great dinners, principally attended by noble relations and thosefamilies of the county who were so fortunate as to have also a residencein London. Regularly every year, also, there was a grand banquetgiven to some members of the royal family by the Duke and Duchess ofBellamont, and regularly every year the Duke and Duchess of Bellamonthad the honour of dining at the palace. Except at a ball or concertunder the royal roof, the duke and duchess were never seen anywherein the evening. The great ladies indeed, the Lady St. Julians and theMarchionesses of Deloraine, always sent them invitations, though theywere ever declined. But the Bellamonts maintained a sort oftraditional acquaintance with a few great houses, either by the tiesof relationship, which, among the aristocracy, are very ramified, orby occasionally receiving travelling magnificoes at their hospitablecastle. 

To the great body, however, of what is called 'the world, ' the worldthat lives in St. James' Street and Pall Mall, that looks out of a clubwindow, and surveys mankind as Lucretius from his philosophic tower; theworld of the Georges and the Jemmys; of Mr. Cassilis and Mr. Melton; ofthe Milfords and the Fitz-Herons, the Berners and the Egertons, the Mr. Ormsbys and the Alfred Mountchesneys, the Duke and Duchess of Bellamontwere absolutely unknown. 

All that the world knew was, that there was a great peer who was calledDuke of Bellamont; that there was a great house in London, with acourtyard, which bore his name; that he had a castle in the country, which was one of the boasts of England; and that this great duke had aduchess; but they never met them anywhere, nor did their wives and theirsisters, and the ladies whom they admired, or who admired them, either at ball or at breakfast, either at morning dances or at eveningdéjeuners. It was clear, therefore, that the Bellamonts might be verygreat people, but they were not in 'society. '

It must have been some organic law, or some fate which uses structurefor its fulfilment, but again it seemed that the continuance of thegreat house of Montacute should depend upon the life of a single being. The duke, like his father and his grandfather, was favoured only withone child, but that child was again a son. From the moment of his birth, the very existence of his parents seemed identified with his welfare. The duke and his wife mutually assumed to each other a secondaryposition, in comparison with that occupied by their offspring. From thehour of his birth to the moment when this history opens, and when he wasabout to complete his majority, never had such solicitude been lavishedon human being as had been continuously devoted to the life of the youngLord Montacute. During his earlier education he scarcely quittedhome. He had, indeed, once been shown to Eton, surrounded by faithfuldomestics, and accompanied by a private tutor, whose vigilance wouldnot have disgraced a superintendent of police; but the scarlet feverhappened to break out during his first half, and Lord Montacute wasinstantly snatched away from the scene of danger, where he was neveragain to appear. At eighteen he went to Christ-church. His mother, whohad nursed him herself, wrote to him every day; but this was not foundsufficient, and the duke hired a residence in the neighourhood of theuniversity, in order that they might occasionally see their son duringterm. 

CHAPTER III. 

 _A Discussion about Money_

'SAW Eskdale just now, ' said Mr. Cassilis, at White's, 'going down tothe Duke of Bellamont's. Great doings there: son comes of age at Easter. Wonder what sort of fellow he is? Anybody know anything about him?'

'I wonder what his father's rent-roll is?' said Mr. Ormsby. 

'They say it is quite clear, ' said Lord Fitz-Heron. 'Safe for that, 'said Lord Milford; 'and plenty of ready money, too, I should think, forone never heard of the present duke doing anything. '

'He does a good deal in his county, ' said Lord Valentine. 

'I don't call that anything, ' said Lord Milford; 'but I mean to say henever played, was never seen at Newmarket, or did anything which anybodycan remember. In fact, he is a person whose name you never by any chancehear mentioned. '

'He is a sort of cousin of mine, ' said Lord Valentine; 'and we are allgoing down to the coming of age: that is, we are asked. ' 'Then you cantell us what sort of fellow the son is. '

'I never saw him, ' said Lord Valentine; 'but I know the duchess toldmy mother last year, that Montacute, throughout his life, had neveroccasioned her a single moment's pain. '

Here there was a general laugh. 

'Well, I have no doubt he will make up for lost time, ' said Mr. Ormsby, demurely. 

'Nothing like mamma's darling for upsetting a coach, ' said Lord Milford. 'You ought to bring your cousin here, Valentine; we would assist thedevelopment of his unsophisticated intelligence. '

'If I go down, I will propose it to him. '

'Why if?' said Mr. Cassilis; 'sort of thing I should like to see onceuncommonly: oxen roasted alive, old armour, and the girls of the villageall running about as if they were behind the scenes. '

'Is that the way you did it at your majority, George?' said LordFitz-Heron. 

'Egad! I kept my arrival at years of discretion at Brighton. I believeit was the last fun there ever was at the Pavilion. The poor dear king, God bless him! proposed my health, and made the devil's own speech; weall began to pipe. He was Regent then. Your father was there, Valentine;ask him if he remembers it. That was a scene! I won't say how it ended;but the best joke is, I got a letter from my governor a few days after, with an account of what they had all been doing at Brandingham, androwing me for not coming down, and I found out I had kept my coming ofage the wrong day. '

'Did you tell them?'

'Not a word: I was afraid we might have had to go through it overagain. '

'I suppose old Bellamont is the devil's own screw, ' said Lord Milford. 'Rich governors, who have never been hard up, always are. '

'No: I believe he is a very good sort of fellow, ' said Lord Valentine;'at least my people always say so. I do not know much about him, forthey never go anywhere. '

'They have got Leander down at Montacute, 'said Mr. Cassilis. 'Hadnot such a thing as a cook in the whole county. They say Lord Eskdalearranged the cuisine for them; so you will feed well, Valentine. '

'That is something: and one can eat before Easter; but when the ballsbegin----'

'Oh! as for that, you will have dancing enough at Montacute; it isexpected on these occasions: Sir Roger de Coverley, tenants' daughters, and all that sort of thing. Deuced funny, but I must say, if I am tohave a lark, I like Vauxhall. '

'I never met the Bellamonts, ' said Lord Milford, musingly. 'Are thereany daughters?'

'None. '

'That is a bore. A single daughter, even if there be a son, may be madesomething of; because, in nine cases out of ten, there is a round sum inthe settlements for the younger children, and she takes it all. '

'That is the case of Lady Blanche Bickerstaffe, ' said Lord Fitz-Heron. 'She will have a hundred thousand pounds. '

'You don't mean that!' said Lord Valentine; 'and she is a very nicegirl, too. '

'You are quite wrong about the hundred thousand, Fitz, ' said LordMilford; 'for I made it my business to inquire most particularly intothe affair: it is only fifty. '

'In these cases, the best rule is only to believe half, ' said Mr. Ormsby. 

'Then you have only got twenty thousand a-year, Ormsby, ' said LordMilford, laughing, 'because the world gives you forty. '

'Well, we must do the best we can in these hard times, ' said Mr. Ormsby, with an air of mock resignation. 'With your Dukes of Bellamont and allthese grandees on the stage, we little men shall be scarcely able tohold up our heads. '

'Come, Ormsby, ' said Lord Milford; 'tell us the amount of your incometax. '

'They say Sir Robert quite blushed when he saw the figure at which youwere sacked, and declared it was downright spoliation. '

'You young men are always talking about money, ' said Mr. Ormsby, shakinghis head; 'you should think of higher things. '

'I wonder what young Montacute will be thinking of this time next year, 'said Lord Fitz-Heron. 

'There will be plenty of people thinking of him, ' said Mr. Cassilis. 'Egad! you gentlemen must stir yourselves, if you mean to be turned off. You will have rivals. '

'He will be no rival to me, ' said Lord Milford; 'for I am an avowedfortune-hunter, and that you say he does not care for, at least, atpresent. '

'And I marry only for love, ' said Lord Valentine, laughing; 'and so weshall not clash. '

'Ay, ay; but if he will not go to the heiresses, the heiresses will goto him, ' said Mr. Ormsby. 'I have seen a good deal of these things, andI generally observe the eldest son of a duke takes a fortune out of themarket. Why, there is Beaumanoir, he is like Valentine; I supposehe intends to marry for love, as he is always in that way; but theheiresses never leave him alone, and in the long run you cannotwithstand it; it is like a bribe; a man is indignant at the barethought, refuses the first offer, and pockets the second. '

'It is very immoral, and very unfair, ' said Lord Milford, 'that any manshould marry for tin who does not want it. '

CHAPTER IV. 

 _Montacute Castle_

THE forest of Montacute, in the north of England, is the name given toan extensive district, which in many parts offers no evidence of thepropriety of its title. The land, especially during the last century, has been effectively cleared, and presents, in general, a champaignview; rich and rural, but far from picturesque. Over a wide expanse, theeye ranges on cornfields and rich hedgerows, many a sparkling spire, andmany a merry windmill. In the extreme distance, on a clear day, maybe discerned the blue hills of the Border, and towards the north thecultivated country ceases, and the dark form of the old forest spreadsinto the landscape. The traveller, however, who may be tempted topenetrate these sylvan recesses, will find much that is beautiful, andlittle that is savage. He will be struck by the capital road that windsamong the groves of ancient oak, and the turfy and ferny wildernesswhich extends on each side, whence the deer gaze on him with haughtycomposure, as if conscious that he was an intruder into their kingdom ofwhom they need have no fear. As he advances, he observes the number ofcross routes which branch off from the main road, and which, though ofless dimensions, are equally remarkable for their masterly structure andcompact condition. 

Sometimes the land is cleared, and he finds himself by the homesteadof a forest farm, and remarks the buildings, distinguished not only bytheir neatness, but the propriety of their rustic architecture. Stilladvancing, the deer become rarer, and the road is formed by an avenueof chestnuts; the forest, on each side, being now transformed intovegetable gardens. The stir of the population is soon evident. Personsare moving to and fro on the side path of the road. Horsemen and cartsseem returning from market; women with empty baskets, and then the rarevision of a stage-coach. The postilion spurs his horses, cracks hiswhip, and dashes at full gallop into the town of Montacute, the capitalof the forest. 

It is the prettiest little town in the world, built entirely of hewnstone, the well-paved and well-lighted streets as neat as a Dutchvillage. There are two churches: one of great antiquity, the otherraised by the present duke, but in the best style of Christianarchitecture. The bridge that spans the little but rapid river Belle, is perhaps a trifle too vast and Roman for its site; but it was builtby the first duke of the second dynasty, who was always afraid ofunderbuilding his position. The town was also indebted to him for theirhall, a Palladian palace. Montacute is a corporate town, and, underthe old system, returned two members to Parliament. The amount ofits population, according to the rule generally observed, might havepreserved it from disfranchisement, but, as every house belonged tothe duke, and as he was what, in the confused phraseology of therevolutionary war, was called a Tory, the Whigs took care to putMontacute in Schedule A. 

The town-hall, the market-place, a literary institution, and the newchurch, form, with some good houses of recent erection, a handsomesquare, in which there is a fountain, a gift to the town from thepresent duchess. 

At the extremity of the town, the ground rises, and on a woody steep, which is in fact the termination of a long range of tableland, may beseen the towers of the outer court of Montacute Castle. The principalbuilding, which is vast and of various ages, from the Plantagenets tothe Guelphs, rises on a terrace, from which, on the side opposite to thetown, you descend into a well-timbered inclosure, called the Home Park. Further on, the forest again appears; the deer again crouch in theirfern, or glance along the vistas; nor does this green domain terminatetill it touches the vast and purple moors that divide the kingdoms ofGreat Britain. 

It was on an early day of April that the duke was sitting in his privateroom, a pen in one hand, and looking up with a face of pleasurableemotion at his wife, who stood by his side, her right arm sometimes onthe back of his chair, and sometimes on his shoulder, while with herother hand, between the intervals of speech, she pressed a handkerchiefto her eyes, bedewed with the expression of an affectionate excitement. 

'It is too much, ' said her Grace. 

'And done in such a handsome manner!' said the duke. 

'I would not tell our dear child of it at this moment, ' said theduchess; 'he has so much to go through!'

'You are right, Kate. It will keep till the celebration is over. Howdelighted he will be!'

'My dear George, I sometimes think we are too happy. '

'You are not half as happy as you deserve to be, ' replied her husband, looking up with a smile of affection; and then he finished his reply tothe letter of Mr. Hungerford, one of the county members, informingthe duke, that now Lord Montacute was of age, he intended at once towithdraw from Parliament, having for a long time fixed on the majorityof the heir of the house of Bellamont as the signal for that event. 'Iaccepted the post, ' said Mr. Hungerford, 'much against my will. YourGrace behaved to me at the time in the handsomest manner, and, indeed, ever since, with respect to this subject. But a Marquis of Montacute is, in my opinion, and, I believe I may add, in that of the whole county, our proper representative; besides, we want young blood in the House. '

'It certainly is done in the handsomest manner, ' said the duke. 

'But then you know, George, you behaved to him in the handsomest manner;he says so, as you do indeed to everybody; and this is your reward. '

'I should be very sorry, indeed, if Hungerford did not withdraw withperfect satisfaction to himself, and his family too, ' urged the duke;'they are most respectable people, one of the most respectable familiesin the county; I should be quite grieved if this step were taken withouttheir entire and hearty concurrence. '

'Of course it is, ' said the duchess, 'with the entire and heartyconcurrence of every one. Mr. Hungerford says so. And I must say that, though few things could have gratified me more, I quite agree with Mr. Hungerford that a Lord Montacute is the natural member for the county;and I have no doubt that if Mr. Hungerford, or any one else in hisposition, had not resigned, they never could have met our child withoutfeeling the greatest embarrassment. '

'A man though, and a man of Hungerford's position, an old family inthe county, does not like to figure as a warming-pan, ' said the duke, thoughtfully. 'I think it has been done in a very handsome manner. '

'And we will show our sense of it, ' said the duchess. 'The Hungerfordsshall feel, when they come here on Thursday, that they are among ourbest friends. '

'That is my own Kate! Here is a letter from your brother. They will behere to-morrow. Eskdale cannot come over till Wednesday. He is at home, but detained by a meeting about his new harbour. '

'I am delighted that they will be here to-morrow, ' said the duchess. 'Iam so anxious that he should see Kate before the castle is full, when hewill have a thousand calls upon his time! I feel persuaded that he willlove her at first sight. And as for their being cousins, why, we werecousins, and that did not hinder us from loving each other. '

'If she resemble you as much as you resembled your aunt ----' said theduke, looking up. 

'She is my perfect image, my very self, Harriet says, in disposition, aswell as face and form. '

'Then our son has a good chance of being a very happy man, ' said theduke. 

'That he should come of age, enter Parliament, and marry in the sameyear! We ought to be very thankful. What a happy year!'

'But not one of these events has yet occurred, ' said the duke, smiling. 

'But they all will, ' said the duchess, 'under Providence. '

'I would not precipitate marriage. '

'Certainly not; nor should I wish him to think of it before the autumn. I should like him to be married on our wedding-day. '

CHAPTER V. 

 _The Heir Comes of Age_

THE sun shone brightly, there was a triumphal arch at every road;the market-place and the town-hall were caparisoned like steeds for atournament, every house had its garland; the flags were flying on everytower and steeple. There was such a peal of bells you could scarcelyhear your neighbour's voice; then came discharges of artillery, and thenbursts of music from various bands, all playing different tunes. Thecountry people came trooping in, some on horseback, some in carts, somein procession. The Temperance band made an immense noise, and theOdd Fellows were loudly cheered. Every now and then one of the duke'syeomanry galloped through the town in his regimentals of green andsilver, with his dark flowing plume and clattering sabre, and with anair of business-like desperation, as if he were carrying a message fromthe commander-in-chief in the thickest of the fight. 

Before the eventful day of which this, merry morn was the harbinger, thearrivals of guests at the castle had been numerous and important. Firstcame the brother of the duchess, with his countess, and their fairdaughter the Lady Katherine, whose fate, unconsciously to herself, hadalready been sealed by her noble relatives. She was destined to be thethird Katherine of Bellamont that her fortunate house had furnished tothese illustrious walls. Nor, if unaware of her high lot, did she seemunworthy of it. Her mien was prophetic of the state assigned to her. This was her first visit to Montacute since her early childhood, and shehad not encountered her cousin since their nursery days. The day afterthem, Lord Eskdale came over from his principal seat in the contiguouscounty, of which he was lord-lieutenant. He was the first cousin of theduke, his father and the second Duke of Bellamont having married twosisters, and of course intimately related to the duchess and her family. Lord Eskdale exercised a great influence over the house of Montacute, though quite unsought for by him. He was the only man of the worldwhom they knew, and they never decided upon anything out of the limitedcircle of their immediate experience without consulting him. LordEskdale had been the cause of their son going to Eton; Lord Eskdale hadrecommended them to send him to Christ-church. The duke had begged hiscousin to be his trustee when he married; he had made him his executor, and had intended him as the guardian of his son. Although, from thedifference of their habits, little thrown together in their earlieryouth, Lord Eskdale had shown, even then, kind consideration for hisrelative; he had even proposed that they should travel together, butthe old duke would not consent to this. After his death, however, beingneighbours as well as relatives, Lord Eskdale had become the naturalfriend and counsellor of his Grace. 

The duke deservedly reposed in him implicit confidence, and entertainedan almost unbounded admiration of his cousin's knowledge of mankind. Hewas scarcely less a favourite or less an oracle with the duchess, thoughthere were subjects on which she feared Lord Eskdale did not entertainviews as serious as her own; but Lord Eskdale, with an extremecarelessness of manner, and an apparent negligence of the minor artsof pleasing, was a consummate master of the feminine idiosyncrasy, and, from a French actress to an English duchess, was skilled in guidingwomen without ever letting the curb be felt. Scarcely a week elapsed, when Lord Eskdale was in the country, that a long letter of difficultieswas not received by him from Montacute, with an earnest request for hisimmediate advice. His lordship, singularly averse to letter writing, andespecially to long letter writing, used generally in reply to say that, in the course of a day or two, he should be in their part of the world, and would talk the matter over with them. 

And, indeed, nothing was more amusing than to see Lord Eskdale, imperturbable, yet not heedless, with his peculiar calmness, somethingbetween that of a Turkish pasha and an English jockey, standing upwith his back to the fire and his hands in his pockets, and hearing theunited statement of a case by the Duke and Duchess of Bellamont;the serious yet quiet and unexaggerated narrative of his Grace, theimpassioned interruptions, decided opinions, and lively expressionsof his wife, when she felt the duke was not doing justice to thecircumstances, or her view of them, and the Spartan brevity with which, when both his clients were exhausted, their counsel summed up the wholeaffair, and said three words which seemed suddenly to remove alldoubts, and to solve all difficulties. In all the business of life, LordEskdale, though he appreciated their native ability, and respectedtheir considerable acquirements, which he did not share, looked upon hiscousins as two children, and managed them as children; but he was reallyattached to them, and the sincere attachment of such a character isoften worth more than the most passionate devotion. The last greatdomestic embarrassment at Montacute had been the affair of the cooks. Lord Eskdale had taken this upon his own shoulders, and, writing toDaubuz, had sent down Leander and his friends to open the minds andcharm the palates of the north. 

Lord Valentine and his noble parents, and their daughter, LadyFlorentina, who was a great horsewoman, also arrived. The countess, whohad once been a beauty with the reputation of a wit, and now set up forbeing a wit on the reputation of having been a beauty, was the lady offashion of the party, and scarcely knew anybody present, though therewere many who were her equals and some her superiors in rank. Her waywas to be a little fine, always smiling and condescendingly amiable;when alone with her husband shrugging her shoulders somewhat, and vowingthat she was delighted that Lord Eskdale was there, as she had somebodyto speak to. It was what she called 'quite a relief. ' A relief, perhaps, from Lord and Lady Mountjoy, whom she had been avoiding all her life;unfortunate people, who, with a large fortune, lived in a wrong square, and asked to their house everybody who was nobody; besides, LordMountjoy was vulgar, and laughed too loud, and Lady Mountjoy called you'my dear, ' and showed her teeth. A relief, perhaps, too, from the Hon. And Rev. Montacute Mountjoy, who, with Lady Eleanor, four daughtersand two sons, had been invited to celebrate the majority of the futurechieftain of their house. The countess had what is called 'a horror ofthose Mountjoys, and those Montacute Mountjoys, ' and what added to herannoyance was, that Lord Valentine was always flirting with the MissesMontacute Mountjoy. 

The countess could find no companions in the Duke and Duchess ofClanronald, because, as she told her husband, as they could not speakEnglish and she could not speak Scotch, it was impossible to exchangeideas. The bishop of the diocese was there, toothless and tolerant, and wishing to be on good terms with all sects, provided they paychurch-rates, and another bishop far more vigorous and of greater fame. By his administration the heir of Bellamont had entered the ChristianChurch, and by the imposition of his hands had been confirmed in it. Hislordship, a great authority with the duchess, was specially invited tobe present on the interesting occasion, when the babe that he had heldat the font, and the child that he had blessed at the altar, was aboutthus publicly to adopt and acknowledge the duties and responsibility ofa man. But the countess, though she liked bishops, liked them, as shetold her husband, 'in their place. ' What that exactly was, she did notdefine; but probably their palaces or the House of Lords. 

It was hardly to be expected that her ladyship would find any reliefin the society of the Marquis and Marchioness of Hampshire; for hislordship passed his life in being the President of scientific andliterary societies, and was ready for anything from the Royal, if histurn ever arrived, to opening a Mechanics' Institute in his neighbouringtown. Lady Hampshire was an invalid; but her ailment was one of thosemysteries which still remained insoluble, although, in the most liberalmanner, she delighted to afford her friends all the information in herpower. Never was a votary endowed with a faith at once so lively andso capricious. Each year she believed in some new remedy, and announcedherself on the eve of some miraculous cure. But the saint was scarcelycanonised before his claims to beatitude were impugned. One year LadyHampshire never quitted Leamington; another, she contrived to combinethe infinitesimal doses of Hahnemann with the colossal distractionsof the metropolis. Now her sole conversation was the water cure. LadyHampshire was to begin immediately after her visit to Montacute, and shespoke in her sawney voice of factitious enthusiasm, as if she pitied thelot of all those who were not about to sleep in wet sheets. 

The members for the county, with their wives and daughters, theHungerfords and the Ildertons, Sir Russell Malpas, or even Lord Hull, an Irish peer with an English estate, and who represented one of thedivisions, were scarcely a relief. Lord Hull was a bachelor, and hadtwenty thousand a year, and would not have been too old for Florentina, if Lord Hull had only lived in 'society, ' learnt how to dress and howto behave, and had avoided that peculiar coarseness of manners andcomplexion which seem the inevitable results of a provincial life. Whatare forty-five or even forty-eight years, if a man do not get up tooearly or go to bed too soon, if he be dressed by the right persons, and, early accustomed to the society of women, he possesses that flexibilityof manner and that readiness of gentle repartee which a feminineapprenticeship can alone confer? But Lord Hull was a man with a red faceand a grey head on whom coarse indulgence and the selfish negligence ofa country life had already conferred a shapeless form; and who, dressed something like a groom, sat at dinner in stolid silence by LadyHampshire, who, whatever were her complaints, had certainly the art, if only from her questions, of making her neighbours communicative. Thecountess examined Lord Hull through her eye-glass with curious pity atso fine a fortune and so good a family being so entirely thrown away. Had he been brought up in a civilised manner, lived six months in MayFair, passed his carnival at Paris, never sported except in Scotland, and occasionally visited a German bath, even Lord Hull might have 'fineddown. ' His hair need not have been grey if it had been attended to; hiscomplexion would not have been so glaring; his hands never could havegrown to so huge a shape. 

What a party, where the countess was absolutely driven to speculate onthe possible destinies of a Lord Hull! But in this party there was not asingle young man, at least not a single young man one had ever heardof, except her son, and he was of no use. The Duke of Bellamont knewno young men; the duke did not even belong to a club; the Duchess ofBellamont knew no young men; she never gave and she never attended anevening party. As for the county youth, the young Hungerfords and theyoung Ildertons, the best of them formed part of the London crowd. 

Some of them, by complicated manouvres, might even have made their wayinto the countess's crowded saloons on a miscellaneous night. She knewthe length of their tether. They ranged, as the Price Current says, fromeight to three thousand a year. Not the figure that purchases a LadyFlorentina!

There were many other guests, and some of them notable, though notof the class and character to interest the fastidious mother of LordValentine; but whoever and whatever they might be, of the sixtyor seventy persons who were seated each day in the magnificentbanqueting-room of Montacute Castle, feasting, amid pyramids of goldplate, on the masterpieces of Leander, there was not a single individualwho did not possess one of the two great qualifications: they were allof them cousins of the Duke of Bellamont, or proprietors in his county. 

But we must not anticipate, the great day of the festival having hardlyyet commenced. 

CHAPTER VI. 

 _A Festal Day_

IN THE Home Park was a colossal pavilion, which held more than twothousand persons, and in which the townsfolk of Montacute were to dine;at equal distances were several smaller tents, each of different coloursand patterns, and each bearing on a standard the name of one of thesurrounding parishes which belonged to the Duke of Bellamont, and tothe convenience and gratification of whose inhabitants these tents wereto-day dedicated. There was not a man of Buddleton or Fuddleton; not ayeoman or peasant of Montacute super Mare or Montacute Abbotts, norof Percy Bellamont nor Friar's Bellamont, nor Winch nor Finch, nor ofMandeville Stokes nor Mandeville Bois; not a goodman true of Carletonand Ingleton and Kirkby and Dent, and Gillamoor and Padmore and Huttonle Hale; not a stout forester from the glades of Thorp, or the sylvanhomes of Hurst Lydgate and Bishopstowe, that knew not where foamed andflowed the duke's ale, that was to quench the longings of his thirstyvillage. And their wives and daughters were equally welcome. At theentrance of each tent, the duke's servants invited all to enter, supplied them with required refreshments, or indicated their appointedplaces at the approaching banquet. In general, though there were manymiscellaneous parties, each village entered the park in procession, withits flag and its band. 

At noon the scene presented the appearance of an immense butwell-ordered fair. In the background, men and boys climbed poles orraced in sacks, while the exploits of the ginglers, their mischievousmanoeuvres and subtle combinations, elicited frequent bursts oflaughter. Further on, two long-menaced cricket matches called forth allthe skill and energy of Fuddleton and Buddleton, and Winch and Finch. The great throng of the population, however, was in the precincts of theterrace, where, in the course of the morning, it was known that the dukeand duchess, with the hero of the day and all their friends, were toappear, to witness the sports of the people, and especially the featsof the morrice-dancers, who were at this moment practising before avery numerous and delighted audience. In the meantime, bells, drums, andtrumpets, an occasional volley, and the frequent cheers and laughterof the multitude, combined with the brilliancy of the sun and thebrightness of the ale to make a right gladsome scene. 

'It's nothing to what it will be at night, ' said one of the duke'sfootmen to his family, his father and mother, two sisters and a youngbrother, listening to him with open mouths, and staring at his statelivery with mingled feelings of awe and affection. They had come overfrom Bellamont Friars, and their son had asked the steward to give himthe care of the pavilion of that village, in order that he mightlook after his friends. Never was a family who esteemed themselves sofortunate or felt so happy. This was having a friend at court, indeed. 

'It's nothing to what it will be at night, ' said Thomas. 'You will have"Hail, star of Bellamont!" and "God save the Queen!" a crown, threestars, ' four flags, and two coronets, all in coloured lamps, letters sixfeet high, on the castle. There will be one hundred beacons lit overthe space of fifty miles the moment a rocket is shot off from theRound Tower; and as for fireworks, Bob, you'll see them at last. Bengallights, and the largest wheels will be as common as squibs and crackers;and I have heard say, though it is not to be mentioned----' And hepaused. 

''We'll not open our mouths, ' said his father, earnestly. 

'You had better not tell us, ' said his mother, in a nervous paroxysm;'for I am in such a fluster, I am sure I cannot answer for myself, andthen Thomas may lose his place for breach of conference. '

'Nonsense, mother, ' said his sisters, who snubbed their mother almost asreadily as is the gracious habit of their betters. 'Pray tell us, Tom. '

'Ay, ay, Tom, ' said his younger brother. 

'Well, ' said Tom, in a confidential whisper, 'won't there be atransparency! I have heard say the Queen never had anything like it. Youwon't be able to see it for the first quarter of an hour, there will besuch a blaze of fire and rockets; but when it does come, they say it'slike heaven opening; the young markiss on a cloud, with his hand on hisheart, in his new uniform. '

'Dear me!' said the mother. 'I knew him before he was weaned. Theduchess suckled him herself, which shows her heart is very true; forthey may say what they like, but if another's milk is in your child'sveins, he seems, in a sort of way, as much her bairn as your own. '

'Mother's milk makes a true born Englishman, ' said the father; 'and Imake no doubt our young markiss will prove the same. '

'How I long to see him!' exclaimed one of the daughters. 

'And so do I!' said her sister; 'and in his uniform! How beautiful itmust be!'

'Well, I don't know, ' said the mother; 'and perhaps you will laugh at mefor saying so, but after seeing my Thomas in his state livery, I don'tcare much for seeing anything else. '

'Mother, how can you say such things? I am afraid the crowd will be verygreat at the fireworks. We must try to get a good place. '

'I have arranged all that, ' said Thomas, with a triumphant look. 'Therewill be an inner circle for the steward's friends, and you will be letin. '

'Oh!' exclaimed his sisters. 

'Well, I hope I shall get through the day, ' said his mother; 'but it'srather a trial, after our quiet life. '

'And when will they come on the terrace, Thomas?'

'You see, they are waiting for the corporation, that's the mayor andtown council of Montacute; they are coming up with an address. There! Doyou hear that? That's the signal gun. They are leaving the town-hall atthis same moment. Now, in three-quarters of an hour's time or so, theduke and duchess, and the young markiss, and all of them, will come onthe terrace. So you be alive, and draw near, and get a good place. Imust look after these people. '

About the same time that the cannon announced that the corporationhad quitted the town-hall, some one tapped at the chamber-door of LordEskdale, who was sealing a letter in his private room. 

'Well, Harris?' said Lord Eskdale, looking up, and recognising hisvalet. 

'His Grace has been inquiring for your lordship several times, ' repliedMr. Harris, with a perplexed air. 

'I shall be with him in good time, ' replied his lordship, again lookingdown. 

'If you could manage to come down at once, my lord, ' said Mr. Harris. 

'Why?'

'Mr. Leander wishes to see your lordship very much. '

'Ah! Leander!' said Lord Eskdale, in a more interested tone. 'What doeshe want?'

'I have not seen him, ' said Mr. Harris; 'but Mr. Prevost tells me thathis feelings are hurt. '

'I hope he has not struck, ' said Lord Eskdale, with a comical glance. 

'Something of that sort, ' said Mr. Harris, very seriously. 

Lord Eskdale had a great sympathy with artists; he was well acquaintedwith that irritability which is said to be the characteristic of thecreative power; genius always found in him an indulgent arbiter. He wasconvinced that if the feelings of a rare spirit like Leander were hurt, they were not to be trifled with. He felt responsible for the presenceof one so eminent in a country where, perhaps, he was not properlyappreciated; and Lord Eskdale descended to the steward's room with theconsciousness of an important, probably a difficult, mission. 

The kitchen of Montacute Castle was of the old style, fitted forbaronial feasts. It covered a great space, and was very lofty. Nowthey build them in great houses on a different system; even moredistinguished by height, but far more condensed in area, as it isthought that a dish often suffers from the distances which the cookhas to move over in collecting its various component parts. The newprinciple seems sound; the old practice, however, was more picturesque. The kitchen at Montacute was like the preparation for the famous weddingfeast of Prince Riquet with the Tuft, when the kind earth opened, andrevealed that genial spectacle of white-capped cooks, and endless stovesand stewpans. The steady blaze of two colossal fires was shrouded byvast screens. Everywhere, rich materials and silent artists; businesswithout bustle, and the all-pervading magic of method. Philippon waspreparing a sauce; Dumoreau, in another quarter of the spacious chamber, was arranging some truffles; the Englishman, Smit, was fashioninga cutlet. Between these three generals of division aides-de-campperpetually passed, in the form of active and observant marmitons, morethan one of whom, as he looked on the great masters around him, andwith the prophetic faculty of genius surveyed the future, exclaimed tohimself, like Cor-reggio, 'And I also will be a cook. '

In this animated and interesting scene was only one unoccupiedindividual, or rather occupied only with his own sad thoughts. This wasPapa Prevost, leaning against rather than sitting on a dresser, with hisarms folded, his idle knife stuck in his girdle, and the tassel of hiscap awry with vexation. His gloomy brow, however, lit up as Mr. Harris, for whom he was waiting with anxious expectation, entered, and summonedhim to the presence of Lord Eskdale, who, with a shrewd yet loungingair, which concealed his own foreboding perplexity, said, 'Well, Prevost, what is the matter? The people here been impertinent?'

Prevost shook his head. 'We never were in a house, my lord, where theywere more obliging. It is something much worse. '

'Nothing wrong about your fish, I hope? Well, what is it?'

'Leander, my lord, has been dressing dinners for a week: dinners, I willbe bound to say, which were never equalled in the Imperial kitchen, and the duke has never made a single observation, or sent him a singlemessage. Yesterday, determined to outdo even himself, he sent up some_escalopes de laitances de carpes à la Bellamont_. In my time I haveseen nothing like it, my lord. Ask Philippon, ask Dumoreau, what theythought of it! Even the Englishman, Smit, who never says anything, opened his mouth and exclaimed; as for the marmitons, they werebreathless, and I thought Achille, the youth of whom I spoke to you, mylord, and who appears to me to be born with the true feeling, would havebeen overcome with emotion. When it was finished, Leander retired tohis room--I attended him--and covered his face with his hands. Would youbelieve it, my lord! Not a word; not even a message. All this morningLeander has waited in the last hope. Nothing, absolutely nothing! Howcan he compose when he is not appreciated? Had he been appreciated, hewould to-day not only have repeated the _escalopes à la Bellamont_, butperhaps even invented what might have outdone it. It is unheard of, my lord. The late lord Monmouth would have sent for Leander the veryevening, or have written to him a beautiful letter, which would havebeen preserved in his family; M. De Sidonia would have sent him atankard from his table. These things in themselves are nothing; but theyprove to a man of genius that he is understood. Had Leander been in theImperial kitchen, or even with the Emperor of Russia, he would have beendecorated!'

'Where is he?' said Lord Eskdale. 

'He is alone in the cook's room. '

'I will go and say a word to him. '

Alone, in the cook's room, gazing in listless vacancy on the fire, that fire which, under his influence, had often achieved so manymaster-works, was the great artist who was not appreciated. No longersuffering under mortification, but overwhelmed by that exhaustion whichfollows acute sensibility and the over-tension of the creative faculty, he looked round as Lord Eskdale entered, and when he perceived who washis visitor, he rose immediately, bowed very low, and then sighed. 

'Prevost thinks we are not exactly appreciated here, ' said Lord Eskdale. 

Leander bowed again, and still sighed. 

'Prevost does not understand the affair, ' continued Lord Eskdale. 'WhyI wished you to come down here, Leander, was not to receive the applauseof my cousin and his guests, but to form their taste. '

Here was a great idea; exciting and ennobling. It threw quite a newlight upon the position of Leander. He started; his brow seemed toclear. Leander, then, like other eminent men, had duties to perform aswell as rights to enjoy; he had a right to fame, but it was also hisduty to form and direct public taste. That then was the reason hewas brought down to Bellamont Castle; because some of the greatestpersonages in England, who never had eaten a proper dinner in theirlives, would have an opportunity, for the first time, of witnessing art. What could the praise of the Duke of Clanronald, or Lord Hampshire, or Lord Hull, signify to one who had shared the confidence of a LordMonmouth, and whom Sir Alexander Grant, the first judge in Europe, had declared the only man of genius of the age? Leander erred tooin supposing that his achievements had been lost upon the guests atBellamont. Insensibly his feats had set them a-thinking. They had beenlike Cossacks in a picture-gallery; but the Clanronalds, the Hampshires, the Hulls, would return to their homes impressed with a great truth, that there is a difference between eating and dining. Was this nothingfor Leander to have effected? Was it nothing, by this development oftaste, to assist in supporting that aristocratic influence which hewished to cherish, and which can alone encourage art? If anything cansave the aristocracy in this levelling age, it is an appreciation of menof genius. Certainly it would have been very gratifying to Leanderif his Grace had only sent him a message, or if Lord Montacute hadexpressed a wish to see him. He had been long musing over some dish_à la Montacute_ for this very day. The young lord was reputed to havetalent; this dish might touch his fancy; the homage of a great artistflatters youth; this offering of genius might colour his destiny. Butwhat, after all, did this signify? Leander had a mission to perform. 

'If I were you, I would exert myself, Leander, ' said Lord Eskdale. 

'Ah! my lord, if all men were like you! If artists were only sure ofbeing appreciated; if we were but understood, a dinner would become asacrifice to the gods, and a kitchen would be Paradise. '

In the meantime, the mayor and town-councillors of Montacute, in theirrobes of office, and preceded by their bedels and their mace-bearer, have entered the gates of the castle. They pass into the great hall, the most ancient part of the building, with its open roof of Spanishchestnut, its screen and gallery and dais, its painted windows andmarble floor. Ascending the dais, they are ushered into an antechamber, the first of that suite of state apartments that opens on the terrace. Leaving on one side the principal dining-room and the library, theyproceeded through the green drawing-room, so called from its silkenhangings, the red drawing-room, covered with ruby velvet, and bothadorned, but not encumbered, with pictures of the choicest art, into theprincipal or duchesses' drawing-room, thus entitled from its completecollection of portraits of Duchesses of Bellamont. It was a spacious andbeautifully proportioned chamber, hung with amber satin, its ceiling byZucchero, whose rich colours were relieved by the burnished gilding. The corporation trod tremblingly over the gorgeous carpet of Axminster, which displayed, in vivid colours and colossal proportions, the shieldand supporters of Bellamont, and threw a hasty glance at the vases ofporphyry and malachite, and mosaic tables covered with precious toys, which were grouped about. 

Thence they were ushered into the Montacute room, adorned, among manyinteresting pictures, by perhaps the finest performance of Lawrence, a portrait of the present duke, just after his marriage. Tall andgraceful, with a clear dark complexion, regular features, eyes of liquidtenderness, a frank brow, and rich clustering hair, the accomplishedartist had seized and conveyed the character of a high-spirited butgentle-hearted cavalier. From the Montacute chamber they enteredthe ball-room; very spacious, white and gold, a coved ceiling, largeVenetian lustres, and the walls of looking-glass, enclosing friezes offestive sculpture. Then followed another antechamber, in the centreof which was one of the masterpieces of Canova. This room, lined withfootmen in state liveries, completed the suite that opened on theterrace. The northern side of this chamber consisted of a large door, divided, and decorated in its panels with emblazoned shields of arms. 

The valves being thrown open, the mayor and town-council of Montacutewere ushered into a gallery one hundred feet long, and which occupieda great portion of the northern side of the castle. The panels of thisgallery enclosed a series of pictures in tapestry, which represented theprincipal achievements of the third crusade. A Montacute had been oneof the most distinguished knights in that great adventure, and had savedthe life of Cour de Lion at the siege of Ascalon. In after-ages a Dukeof Bellamont, who was our ambassador at Paris, had given orders tothe Gobelins factory for the execution of this series of pictures fromcartoons by the most celebrated artists of the time. The subjects of thetapestry had obtained for the magnificent chamber, which they adornedand rendered so interesting, the title of 'The Crusaders' Gallery. '

At the end of this gallery, surrounded by their guests, their relatives, and their neighbours; by high nobility, by reverend prelates, by themembers and notables of the county, and by some of the chief tenants ofthe duke, a portion of whom were never absent from any great carousingor high ceremony that occurred within his walls, the Duke and Duchessof Bellamont and their son, a little in advance of the company, stoodto receive the congratulatory addresses of the mayor and corporationof their ancient and faithful town of Montacute; the town which theirfathers had built and adorned, which they had often represented inParliament in the good old days, and which they took care should thenenjoy its fair proportion of the good old things; a town, every house inwhich belonged to them, and of which there was not an inhabitant who, inhis own person or in that of his ancestry, had not felt the advantagesof the noble connection. 

The duke bowed to the corporation, with the duchess on his left hand;and on his right there stood a youth, above the middle height and of aframe completely and gracefully formed. His dark brown hair, in thosehyacinthine curls which Grecian poets have celebrated, and which Greciansculptors have immortalised, clustered over his brow, which, however, they only partially concealed. It was pale, as was his wholecountenance, but the liquid richness of the dark brown eye, and thecolour of the lip, denoted anything but a languid circulation. Thefeatures were regular, and inclined rather to a refinement which mighthave imparted to the countenance a character of too much delicacy, hadit not been for the deep meditation of the brow, and for the lower partof the visage, which intimated indomitable will and an iron resolution. 

Placed for the first time in his life in a public position, and undercircumstances which might have occasioned some degree of embarrassmenteven to those initiated in the world, nothing was more remarkable in thedemeanour of Lord Montacute than his self-possession; nor was therein his carriage anything studied, or which had the character of beingpreconceived. Every movement or gesture was distinguished by what may becalled a graceful gravity. With a total absence of that excitement whichseemed so natural to his age and situation, there was nothing in hismanner which approached to nonchalance or indifference. It wouldappear that he duly estimated the importance of the event they werecommemorating, yet was not of a habit of mind that overestimatedanything. 

CHAPTER VII. 

 _A Strange Proposal_

THE week of celebration was over: some few guests remained, nearrelatives, and not very rich, the Montacute Mountjoys, for example. They came from a considerable distance, and the duke insisted that theyshould remain until the duchess went to London, an event, by-the-bye, which was to occur very speedily. Lady Eleanor was rather agreeable, andthe duchess a little liked her; there were four daughters, to be sure, and not very lively, but they sang in the evening. 

It was a bright morning, and the duchess, with a heart prophetic ofhappiness, wished to disburthen it to her son; she meant to propose tohim, therefore, to be her companion in her walk, and she had sent to hisrooms in vain, and was inquiring after him, when she was informed that'Lord Montacute was with his Grace. '

A smile of satisfaction flitted over her face, as she recalled thepleasant cause of the conference that was now taking place between thefather and the son. 

Let us see how it advanced. 

The duke is in his private library, consisting chiefly of the statutesat large, Hansard, the Annual Register, Parliamentary Reports, and legaltreatises on the powers and duties of justices of the peace. A portraitof his mother is over the mantel-piece: opposite it a huge map of thecounty. His correspondence on public business with the secretary ofstate, and the various authorities of the shire, is admirably arranged:for the duke was what is called an excellent man of business, that isto say, methodical, and an adept in all the small arts of routine. Thesepapers were deposited, after having been ticketed with a date and asummary of their contents, and tied with much tape, in a large cabinet, which occupied nearly one side of the room, and on the top of which werebusts in marble of Mr. Pitt, George III. , and the Duke of Wellington. 

The duke was leaning back in his chair, which it seemed, from his airand position, he had pushed back somewhat suddenly from his writingtable, and an expression of painful surprise, it cannot be denied, dwelton his countenance. Lord Montacute was on his legs, leaning with hisleft arm on the chimney-piece, very serious, and, if possible, palerthan usual. 

'You take me quite by surprise, ' said the duke; 'I thought it was anarrangement that would have deeply gratified you. '

Lord Montacute slightly bowed his head, but said nothing. His fathercontinued. 

'Not wish to enter Parliament at present! Why, that is all very well, and if, as was once the case, we could enter Parliament when we liked, and how we liked, the wish might be very reasonable. If I could ring mybell, and return you member for Montacute with as much ease as I couldsend over to Bellamont to engage a special train to take us to town, youmight be justified in indulging a fancy. But how and when, I should liketo know, are you to enter Parliament now? This Parliament will last:it will go on to the lees. Lord Eskdale told me so not a week ago. Wellthen, at any rate, you lose three years: for three years you are anidler. I never thought that was your character. I have always had animpression you would turn your mind to public business, that the countymight look up to you. If you have what are called higher views, youshould not forget there is a great opening now in public life, whichmay not offer again. The Duke is resolved to give the preference, incarrying on the business of the country, to the aristocracy. He believesthis is our only means of preservation. He told me so himself. If it beso, I fear we are doomed. I hope we may be of some use to our countrywithout being ministers of state. But let that pass. As long as theDuke lives, he is omnipotent, and will have his way. If you come intoParliament now, and show any disposition for office, you may rely uponit you will not long be unemployed. I have no doubt I could arrange thatyou should move the address of next session. I dare say Lord Eskdalecould manage this, and, if he could not, though I abhor asking aminister for anything, I should, under the circumstances, feel perfectlyjustified in speaking to the Duke on the subject myself, and, ' added hisGrace, in a lowered tone, but with an expression of great earnestnessand determination, 'I flatter myself that if the Duke of Bellamontchooses to express a wish, it would not be disregarded. '

Lord Montacute cast his dark, intelligent eyes upon the floor, andseemed plunged in thought. 

'Besides, ' added the duke, after a moment's pause, and inferring, fromthe silence of his son, that he was making an impression, 'supposeHungerford is not in the same humour this time three years which he isin now. Probably he may be; possibly he may not. Men do not like tobe baulked when they think they are doing a very kind and generous andmagnanimous thing. Hungerford is not a warming-pan; we must rememberthat; he never was originally, and if he had been, he has been memberfor the county too long to be so considered now. I should be placed ina most painful position, if, this time three years, I had to withdraw mysupport from Hungerford, in order to secure your return. '

'There would be no necessity, under any circumstances, for that, my dearfather, ' said Lord Montacute, looking up, and speaking in a voice which, though somewhat low, was of that organ that at once arrests attention; avoice that comes alike from the brain and from the heart, and seems madeto convey both profound thought and deep emotion. There is no index ofcharacter so sure as the voice. There are tones, tones brilliant andgushing, which impart a quick and pathetic sensibility: there are othersthat, deep and yet calm, seem the just interpreters of a serene andexalted intellect. But the rarest and the most precious of all voicesis that which combines passion and repose; and whose rich and restrainedtones exercise, perhaps, on the human frame a stronger spell than eventhe fascination of the eye, or that bewitching influence of the hand, which is the privilege of the higher races of Asia. 

'There would be no necessity, under any circumstances, for that, my dearfather, ' said Lord Montacute, 'for, to be frank, I believe I should feelas little disposed to enter Parliament three years hence as now. '

The duke looked still more surprised. 'Mr. Fox was not of age when hetook his seat, ' said his Grace. 'You know how old Mr. Pitt was whenhe was a minister. Sir Robert, too, was in harness very early. I havealways heard the good judges say, Lord Esk-dale, for example, that a manmight speak in Parliament too soon, but it was impossible to go in toosoon. '

'If he wished to succeed in that assembly, ' replied Lord Montacute, 'I can easily believe it. In all things an early initiation must be ofadvantage. But I have not that wish. '

'I don't like to see a man take his seat in the House of Lords who hasnot been in the House of Commons. He seems to me always, in a manner, unfledged. '

'It will be a long time, I hope, my dear father, before I take my seatin the House of Lords, ' said Lord Montacute, 'if, indeed, I ever do. '

'In the course of nature 'tis a certainty. '

'Suppose the Duke's plan for perpetuating an aristocracy do notsucceed, ' said Lord Montacute, 'and our house ceases to exist?'

His father shrugged his shoulders. 'It is not our business to supposethat. I hope it never will be the business of any one, at leastseriously. This is a great country, and it has become great by itsaristocracy. '

'You think, then, our sovereigns did nothing for our greatness, --QueenElizabeth, for example, of whose visit to Montacute you are so proud?'

'They performed their part. '

'And have ceased to exist. We may have performed our part, and may meetthe same fate. '

'Why, you are talking liberalism!'

'Hardly that, my dear father, for I have not expressed an opinion. '

'I wish I knew what your opinions were, my dear boy, or even yourwishes. '

'Well, then, to do my duty. '

'Exactly; you are a pillar of the State; support the State. '

'Ah! if any one would but tell me what the State is, ' said LordMontacute, sighing. 'It seems to me your pillars remain, but theysupport nothing; in that case, though the shafts may be perpendicular, and the capitals very ornate, they are no longer props, they are aruin. '

'You would hand us over, then, to the ten-pounders?'

'They do not even pretend to be a State, ' said Lord Montacute; 'they donot even profess to support anything; on the contrary, the essence oftheir philosophy is, that nothing is to be established, and everythingis to be left to itself. '

'The common sense of this country and the fifty pound clause will carryus through, ' said the duke. 

'Through what?' inquired his son. 

'This--this state of transition, ' replied his father. 

'A passage to what?'

'Ah! that is a question the wisest cannot answer. '

'But into which the weakest, among whom I class myself, have surely aright to inquire. '

'Unquestionably; and I know nothing that will tend more to assist you inyour researches than acting with practical men. '

'And practising all their blunders, ' said Lord Montacute. 'I canconceive an individual who has once been entrapped into their haphazardcourses, continuing in the fatal confusion to which he has contributedhis quota; but I am at least free, and I wish to continue so. '

'And do nothing?'

'But does it follow that a man is infirm of action because he declinesfighting in the dark?'

'And how would you act, then? What are your plans? Have you any?'

'I have. '

'Well, that is satisfactory, ' said the duke, with animation. 'Whateverthey are, you know you may count upon my doing everything that ispossible to forward your wishes. I know they cannot be unworthy ones, for I believe, my child, you are incapable of a thought that is not goodor great. '

'I wish I knew what was good and great, ' said Lord Montacute; 'I wouldstruggle to accomplish it. '

'But you have formed some views; you have some plans. Speak to me ofthem, and without reserve; as to a friend, the most affectionate, themost devoted. '

'My father, ' said Lord Montacute, and moving, he drew a chair to thetable, and seated himself by the duke, 'you possess and have a right tomy confidence. I ought not to have said that I doubted about what wasgood; for I know you. '

'Sons like you make good fathers. '

'It is not always so, ' said Lord Montacute; 'you have been to me morethan a father, and I bear to you and to my mother a profound and ferventaffection; an affection, ' he added, in a faltering tone, 'that is rarer, I believe, in this age than it was in old days. I feel it at this momentmore deeply, ' he continued, in a firmer tone, 'because I am about topropose that we should for a time separate. '

The duke turned pale, and leant forward in his chair, but did not speak. 

'You have proposed to me to-day, ' continued Lord Montacute, after amomentary pause, 'to enter public life. I do not shrink from its duties. On the contrary, from the position in which I am born, still more fromthe impulse of my nature, I am desirous to fulfil them. I have meditatedon them, I may say, even for years. But I cannot find that it is part ofmy duty to maintain the order of things, for I will not call it system, which at present prevails in our country. It seems to me that it cannotlast, as nothing can endure, or ought to endure, that is not foundedupon principle; and its principle I have not discovered. In nothing, whether it be religion, or government, or manners, sacred or politicalor social life, do I find faith; and if there be no faith, how can therebe duty? Is there such a thing as religious truth? Is there such a thingas political right? Is there such a thing as social propriety? Are thesefacts, or are they mere phrases? And if they be facts, where are theylikely to be found in England? Is truth in our Church? Why, then, doyou support dissent? Who has the right to govern? The monarch? You haverobbed him of his prerogative. The aristocracy? You confess to me thatwe exist by sufferance. The people? They themselves tell you that theyare nullities. Every session of that Parliament in which you wish tointroduce me, the method by which power is distributed is called inquestion, altered, patched up, and again impugned. As for our morals, tell me, is charity the supreme virtue, or the greatest of errors? Oursocial system ought to depend on a clear conception of this point. Ourmorals differ in different counties, in different towns, in differentstreets, even in different Acts of Parliament. What is moral in Londonis immoral in Montacute; what is crime among the multitude is only viceamong the few. '

'You are going into first principles, ' said the duke, much surprised. 

'Give me then second principles, ' replied his son; 'give me any. '

'We must take a general view of things to form an opinion, ' said hisfather, mildly. 'The general condition of England is superior to that ofany other country; it cannot be denied that, on the whole, there is morepolitical freedom, more social happiness, more sound religion, and morematerial prosperity among us, than in any nation in the world. '

'I might question all that, ' said his son; 'but they are considerationsthat do not affect my views. If other States are worse than we are, andI hope they are not, our condition is not mended, but the contrary, forwe then need the salutary stimulus of example. '

'There is no sort of doubt, ' said the duke, 'that the state of Englandat this moment is the most flourishing that has ever existed, certainlyin modern times. What with these railroads, even the condition of thepoor, which I admit was lately far from satisfactory, is infinitelyimproved. Every man has work who needs it, and wages are even high. '

'The railroads may have improved, in a certain sense, the condition ofthe working classes almost as much as that of members of Parliament. They have been a good thing for both of them. And if you think that morelabour is all that is wanted by the people of England, we may beeasy for a time. I see nothing in this fresh development of materialindustry, but fresh causes of moral deterioration. You have announced tothe millions that there welfare is to be tested by the amount of theirwages. Money is to be the cupel of their worth, as it is of all otherclasses. You propose for their conduct the least ennobling of allimpulses. If you have seen an aristocracy invariably become degradedunder such influence; if all the vices of a middle class may be tracedto such an absorbing motive; why are we to believe that the peopleshould be more pure, or that they should escape the catastrophe of thepolicy that confounds the happiness with the wealth of nations?'

The duke shook his head and then said, 'You should not forget we live inan artificial state. '

'So I often hear, sir, ' replied his son; 'but where is the art? It seemsto me the very quality wanting to our present condition. Art is order, method, harmonious results obtained by fine and powerful principles. Isee no art in our condition. The people of this country have ceased tobe a nation. They are a crowd, and only kept in some rude provisionaldiscipline by the remains of that old system which they are dailydestroying. '

'But what would you do, my dear boy?' said his Grace, looking upvery distressed. 'Can you remedy the state of things in which we findourselves?'

'I am not a teacher, ' said Lord Montacute, mournfully; 'I only ask you, I supplicate you, my dear father, to save me from contributing to thisquick corruption that surrounds us. '

'You shall be master of your own actions. I offer you counsel, I give nocommands; and, as for the rest, Providence will guard us. '

'If an angel would but visit our house as he visited the house of Lot!'said Montacute, in a tone almost of anguish. 

'Angels have performed their part, ' said the duke. 'We have receivedinstructions from one higher than angels. It is enough for all of us. '

'It is not enough for me, ' said Lord Montacute, with a glowing cheek, and rising abruptly. 'It was not enough for the Apostles; for thoughthey listened to the sermon on the mount, and partook of the firstcommunion, it was still necessary that He should appear to themagain, and promise them a Comforter. I require one, ' he added, aftera momentary pause, but in an agitated voice. 'I must seek one. Yes! mydear father, it is of this that I would speak to you; it is this whichfor a long time has oppressed my spirit, and filled me often withintolerable gloom. We must separate. I must leave you, I must leavethat dear mother, those beloved parents, in whom are concentred allmy earthly affections; but I obey an impulse that I believe comesfrom above. Dearest and best of men, you will not thwart me; you willforgive, you will aid me!' And he advanced and threw himself into thearms of his father. 

The duke pressed Lord Montacute to his heart, and endeavoured, thoughhimself agitated and much distressed, to penetrate the mystery of thisebullition. 'He says we must separate, ' thought the duke to himself. 'Ah! he has lived too much at home, too much alone; he has read andpondered too much; he has moped. Eskdale was right two years ago. I wishI had sent him to Paris, but his mother was so alarmed; and, indeed, 'tis a precious life! The House of Commons would have been just thething for him. He would have worked on committees and grown practical. But something must be done for him, dear child! He says we mustseparate; he wants to travel. And perhaps he ought to travel. But a lifeon which so much depends! And what will Katherine say? It will kill her. I could screw myself up to it. I would send him well attended. Braceshould go with him; he understands the Continent; he was in thePeninsular war; and he should have a skilful physician. I see how it is;I must act with decision, and break it to his mother. '

These ideas passed through the duke's mind during the few secondsthat he embraced his son, and endeavoured at the same time to conveyconsolation by the expression of his affection, and his anxiety at alltimes to contribute to his child's happiness. 

'My dear son, ' said the duke, when Lord Montacute had resumed his seat, 'I see how it is; you wish to travel?'

Lord Montacute bent his head, as if in assent. 

'It will be a terrible blow to your mother; I say nothing of myself. You know what I feel for you. But neither your mother nor myself have aright to place our feelings in competition with any arrangement for yourwelfare. It would be in the highest degree selfish and unreasonable;and perhaps it will be well for you to travel awhile; and, as forParliament, I am to see Hungerford this morning at Bellamont. I will tryand arrange with him to postpone his resignation until the autumn, or, if possible, for some little time longer. You will then haveaccomplished your purpose. It will do you a great deal of good. You willhave seen the world, and you can take your seat next year. '

The duke paused. Lord Montacute looked perplexed and distressed; heseemed about to reply, and then, leaning on the table, with his faceconcealed from his father, he maintained his silence. The duke rose, looked at his watch, said he must be at Bellamont by two o'clock, hoped that Brace would dine at the castle to-day, thought it not atall impossible Brace might, would send on to Montacute for him, perhapsmight meet him at Bellamont. Brace understood the Continent, spokeseveral languages, Spanish among them, though it was not probable hisson would have any need of that, the present state of Spain not beingvery inviting to the traveller. 

'As for France, ' said the duke, 'France is Paris, and I suppose thatwill be your first step; it generally is. We must see if your cousin, Henry Howard, is there. If so, he will put you in the way of everything. With the embassy and Brace, you would manage very well at Paris. Then, Isuppose, you would like to go to Italy; that, I apprehend, is your greatpoint. Your mother will not like your going to Rome. Still, at the sametime, a man, they say, should see Rome before he dies. I never did. Ihave never crossed the sea except to go to Ireland. Your grandfatherwould never let me travel; I wanted to, but he never would. Not, however, for the same reasons which have kept you at home. Suppose youeven winter at Rome, which I believe is the right thing, why, you mightvery well be back by the spring. However, we must manage your mother alittle about remaining over the winter, and, on second thoughts, we willget Bernard to go with you, as well as Brace and a physician, and thenshe will be much more easy. I think, with Brace, Bernard, and a medicalman whom we can really trust, Harry Howard at Paris, and the bestletters for every other place, which we will consult Lord Eskdale about, I think the danger will not be extreme. '

'I have no wish to see Paris, ' said Lord Montacute, evidentlyembarrassed, and making a great effort to relieve his mind of someburthen. 'I have no wish to see Paris. '

'I am very glad to hear that, ' said his father, eagerly. 

'Nor do I wish either to go to Rome, ' continued his son. 

'Well, well, you have taken a load off my mind, my dear boy. I would notconfess it, because I wish to save you pain; but really, I believethe idea of your going to Rome would have been a serious shock to yourmother. It is not so much the distance, though that is great, nor theclimate, which has its dangers, but, you understand, with her peculiarviews, her very strict----' The duke did not care to finish hissentence. 

'Nor, my dear father, ' continued Lord Montacute, 'though I did not liketo interrupt you when you were speaking with so much solicitude andconsideration for me, is it exactly travel, in the common acceptation ofthe term, that I feel the need of. I wish, indeed, to leave England; Iwish to make an expedition; a progress to a particular point; withoutwandering, without any intervening residence. In a word, it is the HolyLand that occupies my thought, and I propose to make a pilgrimage to thesepulchre of my Saviour. '

The duke started, and sank again into his chair. 'The Holy Land! TheHoly Sepulchre!' he exclaimed, and repeated to himself, staring at hisson. 

'Yes, sir, the Holy Sepulchre, ' repeated Lord Mon-tacute, and nowspeaking with his accustomed repose. 'When I remember that the Creator, since light sprang out of darkness, has deigned to reveal Himself to Hiscreature only in one land, that in that land He assumed a manly form, and met a human death, I feel persuaded that the country sanctified bysuch intercourse and such events must be endowed with marvellous andpeculiar qualities, which man may not in all ages be competentto penetrate, but which, nevertheless, at all times exercise anirresistible influence upon his destiny. It is these qualities that manytimes drew Europe to Asia during the middle centuries. Our castle hasbefore this sent forth a De Montacute to Palestine. For three days andthree nights he knelt at the tomb of his Redeemer. Six centuries andmore have elapsed since that great enterprise. It is time to restore andrenovate our communications with the Most High. I, too, would kneel atthat tomb; I, too, surrounded by the holy hills and sacred groves ofJerusalem, would relieve my spirit from the bale that bows it down;would lift up my voice to heaven, and ask, What is duty, and what isfaith? What ought I to do, and what ought I to believe?'

The Duke of Bellamont rose from his seat, and walked up and down theroom for some minutes, in silence and in deep thought. At length, stopping and leaning against the cabinet, he said, 'What has occurredto-day between us, my beloved child, is, you may easily believe, asstrange to me as it is agitating. I will think of all you have said;I will try to comprehend all you mean and wish. I will endeavour to dothat which is best and wisest; placing above all things your happiness, and not our own. At this moment I am not competent to the task: I needquiet, and to be alone. Your mother, I know, wishes to walk with youthis morning. She may be speaking to you of many things. Be silent uponthis subject, until I have communicated with her. At present I will rideover to Bellamont. I must go; and, besides, it will do me good. I nevercan think very well except in the saddle. If Brace comes, make him dinehere. God bless you. '

The duke left the room; his son remained in meditation. The first stepwas taken. He had poured into the interview of an hour the results ofthree years of solitary thought. A sound roused him; it was his mother. She had only learnt casually that the duke was gone; she was surprisedhe had not come into her room before he went; it seemed the first timesince their marriage that the duke had gone out without first coming tospeak to her. So she went to seek her son, to congratulate him on beinga member of Parliament, on representing the county of which they wereso fond, and of breaking to him a proposition which she doubted not hewould find not less interesting and charming. Happy mother, with heronly son, on whom she doted and of whom she was so justly proud, aboutto enter public life in which he was sure to distinguish himself, and tomarry a woman who was sure to make him happy! With a bounding heart theduchess opened the library door, where she had been informed she shouldfind Lord Montacute. She had her bonnet on, ready for the walk ofconfidence, and, her face flushed with delight, she looked evenbeautiful. 'Ah!' she exclaimed, 'I have been looking for you, Tancred!'

[Illustration: frontis-p72]

CHAPTER VIII. 

 _The Decision_

THE duke returned rather late from Bellamont, and went immediately tohis dressing-room. A few minutes before dinner the duchess knocked athis door and entered. She seemed disconcerted, and reminded him, thoughwith great gentleness, that he had gone out to-day without first biddingher adieu; she really believed it was the only time he had done so sincetheir marriage. The duke, who, when she entered, anticipated somethingabout their son, was relieved by her remark, embraced her, and wouldhave affected a gaiety which he did not really feel. 

'I am glad to hear that Brace dines here to-day, Kate, for Iparticularly wanted to see him. '

The duchess did not reply, and seemed absent; the duke, to saysomething, tying his cravat, kept harping upon Brace. 

'Never mind Brace, George, ' said the duchess; 'tell me what is thisabout Tancred? Why is his coming into Parliament put off?'

The duke was perplexed; he wished to know how far at this moment hiswife was informed upon the matter; the feminine frankness of theduchess put him out of suspense. 'I have been walking with Tancred, 'she continued, 'and intimated, but with great caution, all our plans andhopes. I asked him what he thought of his cousin; he agrees with usshe is by far the most charming girl he knows, and one of themost agreeable. I impressed upon him how good she was. I wished toprecipitate nothing. I never dreamed of their marrying until late in theautumn. I wished him to become acquainted with his new life, which wouldnot prevent him seeing a great deal of Katherine in London, and then tovisit them in Ireland, as you visited us, George; and then, when I wassettling everything in the most delightful manner, what he was to dowhen he was kept up very late at the House, which is the only part Idon't like, and begging him to be very strict in making his servantalways have coffee ready for him, very hot, and a cold fowl too, orsomething of the sort, he tells me, to my infinite astonishment, thatthe vacancy will not immediately occur, that he is not sorry for it, ashe thinks it may be as well that he should go abroad. What can all thismean? Pray tell me; for Tancred has told me nothing, and, when I pressedhim, waived the subject, and said we would all of us consult together. '

'And so we will, Kate, ' said the duke, 'but hardly at this moment, fordinner must be almost served. To be brief, ' he added, speaking in alight tone, 'there are reasons which perhaps may make it expedient thatHungerford should not resign at the present moment; and as Tancred has afancy to travel a little, it may be as well that we should take it intoconsideration whether he might not profitably occupy the interval inthis manner. '

'Profitably!' said the duchess. 'I never can understand how goingto Paris and Rome, which young men always mean when they talk oftravelling, can be profitable to him; it is the very thing which, all mylife, I have been endeavouring to prevent. His body and his soul will beboth imperilled; Paris will destroy his constitution, and Rome, perhaps, change his faith. '

'I have more confidence in his physical power and his religiousprinciple than you, Kate, ' said the duke, smiling. 'But make yourselfeasy on these heads; Tancred told me this morning that he had no wish tovisit either Rome or Paris. '

'Well!' exclaimed the duchess, somewhat relieved, 'if he wants to makea little tour in Holland, I think I could bear it; it is a Protestantcountry, and there are no vermin. And then those dear Disbrowes, I amsure, would take care of him at The Hague. '

'We will talk of all this to-night, my love, ' said the duke; andoffering his arm to his wife, who was more composed, if not morecheerful, they descended to their guests. 

Colonel Brace was there, to the duke's great satisfaction. The colonelhad served as a cornet in a dragoon regiment in the last campaign ofthe Peninsular war, and had marched into Paris. Such an event makes anindelible impression on the memory of a handsome lad of seventeen, andthe colonel had not yet finished recounting his strange and fortunateadventures. 

He was tall, robust, a little portly, but, well buckled, still presenteda grand military figure. He was what you call a fine man; florid, withstill a good head of hair though touched with grey, splendid moustaches, large fat hands, and a courtly demeanour not unmixed with a slightswagger. The colonel was a Montacute man, and had inherited a largehouse in the town and a small estate in the neighbourhood. Havingsold out, he had retired to his native place, where he had become aconsiderable personage. The duke had put him in the commission, andhe was the active magistrate of the district; he had reorganised theBellamont regiment of yeomanry cavalry, which had fallen into saddecay during the late duke's time, but which now, with Brace for itslieutenant-colonel, was second to none in the kingdom. Colonel Brace wasone of the best shots in the county; certainly the boldest rider amongthe heavy weights; and bore the palm from all with the rod, in a countyfamous for its feats in lake and river. 

The colonel was a man of great energy, of good temper, of readyresource, frank, a little coarse, but hearty and honest. He adored theDuke and Duchess of Bellamont. He was sincere; he was not a parasite;he really believed that they were the best people in the world, and I amnot sure that he had not some foundation for his faith. On the whole, he might be esteemed the duke's right-hand man. His Grace generallyconsulted the colonel on county affairs; the command of the yeomanryalone gave him a considerable position; he was the chief also of themilitia staff; could give his opinion whether a person was to be made amagistrate or not; and had even been called into council when there wasa question of appointing a deputy-lieutenant. The colonel, who was aleading member of the corporation of Montacute, had taken care to bechosen mayor this year; he had been also chairman of the Committee ofManagement during the celebration of Tancred's majority; had had theentire ordering of the fireworks, and was generally supposed to havegiven the design, or at least the leading idea, for the transparency. 

We should notice also Mr. Bernard, a clergyman, and recently the privatetutor of Lord Montacute, a good scholar; in ecclesiastical opinions, what is called high and dry. He was about five-and-thirty; well-looking, bashful. The duke intended to prefer him to a living when one wasvacant; in the meantime he remained in the family, and at presentdischarged the duties of chaplain and librarian at Montacute, andoccasionally assisted the duke as private secretary. Of his life, onethird had been passed at a rural home, and the rest might be nearlydivided between school and college. 

These gentlemen, the distinguished and numerous family of the MontacuteMountjoys, young Hunger-ford, whom the duke had good-naturedly broughtover from Bellamont for the sake of the young ladies, the duke andduchess, and their son, formed the party, which presented rather acontrast, not only in its numbers, to the series of recent banquets. They dined in the Montacute chamber. The party, without intendingit, was rather dull and silent. The duchess was brooding over thedisappointment of the morning; the duke trembled for the disclosuresof the morrow. The Misses Mountjoy sang better than they talked; theirmother, who was more lively, was seated by the duke, and confined herpowers of pleasing to him. The Honourable and Reverend Montacute himselfwas an epicure, and disliked conversation during dinner. Lord Montacutespoke to Mr. Hungerford across the table, but Mr. Hungerford waswhispering despairing nothings in the ear of Arabella Mountjoy, andreplied to his question without originating any in return, which ofcourse terminates talk. 

When the second course had arrived, the duke, who wanted a little morenoise and distraction, fired off in despair a shot at Colonel Brace, who was on the left hand of the duchess, and set him on his yeomanrycharger. From this moment affairs improved. The colonel made continualcharges, and carried all before him. Nothing could be more noisy in agenteel way. His voice sounded like the bray of a trumpet amid the dinof arms; it seemed that the moment he began, everybody and everythingbecame animated and inspired by his example. All talked; the duke setthem the fashion of taking wine with each other; Lord Montacute managedto entrap Arminta Mountjoy into a narrative in detail of her morning'sride and adventures; and, affecting scepticism as to some of theincidents, and wonder at some of the feats, produced a considerableaddition to the general hubbub, which he instinctively felt that hisfather wished to encourage. 

'I don't know whether it was the Great Western or the South Eastern, 'continued Colonel Brace; 'but I know his leg is broken. '

'God bless me!' said the duke; 'and only think of my not hearing of itat Bellamont to-day!'

'I don't suppose they know anything about it, ' replied the colonel. 'Theway I know it is this: I was with Roby to-day, when the post came in, and he said to me, "Here is a letter from Lady Malpas; I hope nothingis the matter with Sir Russell or any of the children. " And then it allcame out. The train was blown up behind; Sir Russell was in a centrecarriage, and was pitched right into a field. They took him into an inn, put him to bed, and sent for some of the top-sawyers from London, SirBenjamin Brodie, and that sort of thing; and the moment Sir Russell cameto himself, he said, "I must have Roby, send for Roby, Roby knows myconstitution. " And they sent for Roby. And I think he was right. Thequantity of young officers I have seen sent rightabout in the Peninsula, because they were attended by a parcel of men who knew nothing of theirconstitution! Why, I might have lost my own leg once, if I had not beensharp. I got a scratch in a little affair at Almeidas, charging theenemy a little too briskly; but we really ought not to speak of thesethings before the ladies----'

'My dear colonel, ' said Lord Montacute, 'on the contrary, thereis nothing more interesting to them. Miss Mountjoy was saying onlyyesterday, that there was nothing she found so difficult to understandas the account of a battle, and how much she wished to comprehend it. '

'That is because, in general, they are not written by soldiers, ' saidthe colonel; 'but Napier's battles are very clear. I could fight everyone of them on this table. That's a great book, that history of Napier;it has faults, but they are rather omissions than mistakes. Now thataffair of Almeidas of which I was just speaking, and which nearly costme my leg, it is very odd, but he has omitted mentioning it altogether. '

'But you saved your leg, colonel, ' said the duke. 

'Yes, I had the honour of marching into Paris, and that is an eventnot very easy to be forgotten, let me tell your Grace. I saved my legbecause I knew my constitution. For the very same reason by which I hopeSir Russell Malpas will save his leg. Because he will be attended bya person who knows his constitution. He never did a wiser thing thansending for Roby. For my part, if I were in garrison at Gibraltarto-morrow, and laid up, I would do the same; I would send for Roby. Inall these things, depend upon it, knowing the constitution is half thebattle. '

All this time, while Colonel Brace was indulging in his garrulouscomments, the Duke of Bellamont was drawing his moral. He had a greatopinion of Mr. Roby, who was the medical attendant of the castle, and anable man. Mr. Roby was perfectly acquainted with the constitution ofhis son; Mr. Roby must go to the Holy Sepulchre. Cost what it might, Mr. Roby must be sent to Jerusalem. The duke was calculating all this timethe income that Mr. Roby made. He would not put it down at more thanfive hundred pounds per annum, and a third of that was certainlyafforded by the castle. The duke determined to offer Roby a thousand andhis expenses to attend Lord Montacute. He would not be more than ayear absent, and his practice could hardly seriously suffer while away, backed as he would be, when he returned, by the castle. And if it did, the duke must guarantee Roby against loss; it was a necessity, absoluteand of the first class, that Tancred should be attended by a medical manwho knew his constitution. The duke agreed with Colonel Brace that itwas half the battle. 

CHAPTER IX. 

 _Tancred, the New Crusader_

'MISERABLE mother that I am!' exclaimed the duchess, and she clasped herhands in anguish. 

'My dearest Katherine!' said the duke, 'calm yourself. '

'You ought to have prevented this, George; you ought never to have letthings come to this pass. '

'But, my dearest Katherine, the blow was as unlooked-for by me as byyourself. I had not, how could I have, a remote suspicion of what waspassing through his mind?'

'What, then, is the use of your boasted confidence with your child, which you tell me you have always cultivated? Had I been his father, Iwould have discovered his secret thoughts. '

'Very possibly, my dear Katherine; but you are at least his mother, tenderly loving him, and tenderly loved by him. The intercourse betweenyou has ever been of an extreme intimacy, and especially on the subjectsconnected with this fancy of his, and yet, you see, even you arecompletely taken by surprise. ' 'I once had a suspicion he was inclinedto the Puseyite heresy, and I spoke to Mr. Bernard on the subject, andafterwards to him, but I was convinced that I was in error. I am sure, 'added the duchess, in a mournful tone, 'I have lost no opportunity ofinstilling into him the principles of religious truth. It was onlylast year, on his birthday, that I sent him a complete set of thepublications of the Parker Society, my own copy of Jewel, full ofnotes, and my grandfather, the primate's, manuscript commentary onChillingworth; a copy made purposely by myself. '

'I well know, ' said the duke, 'that you have done everything for hisspiritual welfare which ability and affection combined could suggest. '

'And it ends in this!' exclaimed the duchess. 'The Holy Land! Why, if heeven reach it, the climate is certain death. The curse of the Almighty, for more than eighteen centuries, has been on that land. Every yearit has become more sterile, more savage, more unwholesome, and moreunearthly. It is the abomination of desolation. And now my son is to gothere! Oh! he is lost to us for ever!'

'But, my dear Katherine, let us consult a little. ' 'Consult! Why shouldI consult? You have settled everything, you have agreed to everything. You do not come here to consult me; I understand all that; you come hereto break a foregone conclusion to a weak and miserable woman. '

'Do not say such things, Katherine!' 'What should I say? What can Isay?' 'Anything but that. I hope that nothing will be ever done in thisfamily without your full sanction. ' I Rest assured, then, that I willnever sanction the departure of Tancred on this crusade. '

'Then he will never go, at least, with my consent, ' said the duke; 'butKatherine, assist me, my dear wife. All shall be, shall ever be, asyou wish; but I shrink from being placed, from our being placed, incollision with our child. The mere exercise of parental authority is alast resource; I would appeal first, rather to his reason, to his heart;your arguments, his affection for us, may yet influence him. ' 'You tellme you have argued with him, ' said the duchess in a melancholy tone. 

'Yes, but you know so much more on these subjects than I do, indeed, upon all subjects; you are so clever, that I do not despair, my dearKatherine, of your producing an impression on him. '

'I would tell him at once, ' said the duchess, firmly, 'that theproposition cannot be listened to. '

The duke looked very distressed. After a momentary pause, he said, 'If, indeed, you think that the best; but let us consult before we take thatstep, because it would seem to terminate all discussion, and discussionmay yet do good. Besides, I cannot conceal from myself that Tancred inthis affair is acting under the influence of very powerful motives; hisfeelings are highly strung; you have no idea, you can have no idea fromwhat we have seen of him hitherto, how excited he is. I had no idea ofhis being capable of such excitement. I always thought him so very calm, and of such a quiet turn. And so, in short, my dear Katherine, were weto be abrupt at this moment, peremptory, you understand, I--I should notbe surprised, were Tancred to go without our permission. '

'Impossible!' exclaimed the duchess, starting in her chair, but withas much consternation as confidence in her countenance. 'Throughout hislife he has never disobeyed us. '

'And that is an additional reason, ' said the duke, quietly, but in hissweetest tone, 'why we should not treat as a light ebullition thisfirst instance of his preferring his own will to that of his father andmother. '

'He has been so much away from us these last three years, ' said theduchess in a tone of great depression, 'and they are such importantyears in the formation of character! But Mr. Bernard, he ought to havebeen aware of all this; he ought to have known what was passing throughhis pupil's mind; he ought to have warned us. Let us speak to him;let us speak to him at once. Ring, my dear George, and request theattendance of Mr. Bernard. '

That gentleman, who was in the library, kept them waiting but a fewminutes. As he entered the room, he perceived, by the countenancesof his noble patrons, that something remarkable, and probably notagreeable, had occurred. The duke opened the case to Mr. Bernard withcalmness; he gave an outline of the great catastrophe; the duchessfilled up the parts, and invested the whole with a rich and eventerrible colouring. 

Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the late private tutor ofLord Montacute. He was fairly overcome; the communication itself wasstartling, the accessories overwhelmed him. The unspoken reproachesthat beamed from the duke's mild eye; the withering glance of maternaldesolation that met him from the duchess; the rapidity of her anxiousand agitated questions; all were too much for the simple, thoughcorrect, mind of one unused to those passionate developments which arecommonly called scenes. All that Mr. Bernard for some time could dowas to sit with his eyes staring and mouth open, and repeat, with abewildered air, 'The Holy Land, the Holy Sepulchre!' No, most certainlynot; most assuredly; never in any way, by any word or deed, had LordMontacute ever given him reason to suppose or imagine that his lordshipintended to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, or that he wasinfluenced by any of those views and opinions which he had so strangelyand so uncompromisingly expressed to his father. 

'But, Mr. Bernard, you have been his companion, his instructor, for manyyears, ' continued the duchess, 'for the last three years especially, years so important in the formation of character. You have seen muchmore of Montacute than we have. Surely you must have had some idea ofwhat was passing in his mind; you could not help knowing it; you oughtto have known it; you ought to have warned, to have prepared us. '

'Madam, ' at length said Mr. Bernard, more collected, and feeling thenecessity and excitement of self-vindication, 'Madam, your noble son, under my poor tuition, has taken the highest honours of his university;his moral behaviour during that period has been immaculate; and as forhis religious sentiments, even this strange scheme proves that they are, at any rate, of no light and equivocal character. '

'To lose such a son!' exclaimed the duchess, in a tone of anguish, andwith streaming eyes. 

The duke took her hand, and would have soothed her; and then, turning toMr. Bernard, he said, in a lowered tone, 'We are very sensible how muchwe owe you; the duchess equally with myself. All we regret is, that someof us had not obtained a more intimate acquaintance with the characterof my son than it appears we have acquired. '

'My lord duke, ' said Mr. Bernard, 'had yourself or her Grace ever spokento me on this subject, I would have taken the liberty of expressing whatI say now. I have ever found Lord Montacute inscrutable. He has formedhimself in solitude, and has ever repelled any advance to intimacy, either from those who were his inferiors or his equals in station. Hehas never had a companion. As for myself, during the ten years that Ihave had the honour of being connected with him, I cannot recall aword or a deed on his part which towards me has not been courteous andconsiderate; but as a child he was shy and silent, and as a man, for Ihave looked upon him as a man in mind for these four or even five years, he has employed me as his machine to obtain knowledge. It is not veryflattering to oneself to make these confessions, but at Oxford he hadthe opportunity of communicating with some of the most eminent menof our time, and I have always learnt from them the same result. LordMontacute never disburthened. His passion for study has been ardent; hispower of application is very great; his attention unwearied as longas there is anything to acquire; but he never seeks your opinions, andnever offers his own. The interview of yesterday with your Grace is theonly exception with which I am acquainted, and at length throws somelight on the mysteries of his mind. '

The duke looked sad; his wife seemed plunged in profound thought; therewas a silence of many moments. At length the duchess looked up, andsaid, in a calmer tone, and with an air of great seriousness, 'It seemsthat we have mistaken the character of our son. Thank you very much forcoming to us so quickly in our trouble, Mr. Bernard. It was very kind, as you always are. ' Mr. Bernard took the hint, rose, bowed, and retired. 

The moment that he had quitted the room, the eyes of the Duke andDuchess of Bellamont met. Who was to speak first? The duke had nothingto say, and therefore he had the advantage: the duchess wished herhusband to break the silence, but, having something to say herself, shecould not refrain from interrupting it. So she said, with a tearful eye, 'Well, George, what do you think we ought to do?' The duke had a greatmind to propose his plan of sending Tancred to Jerusalem, with ColonelBrace, Mr. Bernard, and Mr. Roby, to take care of him, but he hardlythought the occasion was ripe enough for that; and so he suggested thatthe duchess should speak to Tancred herself. 

'No, ' said her Grace, shaking her head, 'I think it better for me tobe silent; at least at present. It is necessary, however, that the mostenergetic means should be adopted to save him, nor is there a moment tobe lost. We must shrink from nothing for such an object. I have a plan. We will put the whole matter in the hands of our friend, the bishop. We will get him to speak to Tancred. I entertain not a doubt that thebishop will put his mind all right; clear all his doubts; remove all hisscruples. The bishop is the only person, because, you see, it is a casepolitical as well as theological, and the bishop is a great statesman aswell as the first theologian of the age. Depend upon it, my dear George, that this is the wisest course, and, with the blessing of Providence, will effect our purpose. It is, perhaps, asking a good deal of thebishop, considering his important and multifarious duties, to undertakethis office, but we must not be delicate when everything is at stake;and, considering he christened and confirmed Tancred, and our longfriendship, it is quite out of the question that he can refuse. However, there is no time to be lost. We must get to town as soon as possible;tomorrow, if we can. I shall advance affairs by writing to the bishopon the subject, and giving him an outline of the case, so that he may beprepared to see Tancred at once on our arrival. What think you, George, of my plan?'

'I think it quite admirable, ' replied his Grace, only too happy thatthere was at least the prospect of a lull of a few days in this greatembarrassment. 

CHAPTER X. 

 _A Visionary_

ABOUT the time of the marriage of the Duchess of Bellamont, her noblefamily, and a few of their friends, some of whom also believed in themillennium, were persuaded that the conversion of the Roman Catholicpopulation of Ireland to the true faith, which was their own, was athand. They had subscribed very liberally for the purpose, and formed anamazing number of sub-committees. As long as their funds lasted, theirmissionaries found proselytes. It was the last desperate effort of aChurch that had from the first betrayed its trust. Twenty years ago, statistics not being so much in vogue, and the people of England beingin the full efflorescence of that public ignorance which permitted themto believe themselves the most enlightened nation in the world, theIrish 'difficulty' was not quite so well understood as at the presentday. It was then an established doctrine, and all that was necessaryfor Ireland was more Protestantism, and it was supposed to be not moredifficult to supply the Irish with Protestantism than it had proved, inthe instance of a recent famine, 1822, to furnish them with potatoes. What was principally wanted in both cases were subscriptions. 

When the English public, therefore, were assured by theirco-religionists on the other side of St. George's Channel, that at lastthe good work was doing; that the flame spread, even rapidly; thatnot only parishes but provinces were all agog, and that both town andcountry were quite in a heat of proselytism, they began to believe thatat last the scarlet lady was about to be dethroned; they loosenedtheir purse-strings; fathers of families contributed their zealous fivepounds, followed by every other member of the household, to the babein arms, who subscribed its fanatical five shillings. The affairlooked well. The journals teemed with lists of proselytes and cases ofconversion; and even orderly, orthodox people, who were firm in theirown faith, but wished others to be permitted to pursue their errors inpeace, began to congratulate each other on the prospect of our at lastbecoming a united Protestant people. 

In the blaze and thick of the affair, Irish Protestants jubilant, IrishPapists denouncing the whole movement as fraud and trumpery, John Bullperplexed, but excited, and still subscribing, a young bishop rose inhis place in the House of Lords, and, with a vehemence there unusual, declared that he saw 'the finger of God in this second Reformation, 'and, pursuing the prophetic vein and manner, denounced 'woe to those whoshould presume to lift up their hands and voices in vain and impotentattempts to stem the flood of light that was bursting over Ireland. '

In him, who thus plainly discerned 'the finger of God' in transactionsin which her family and feelings were so deeply interested, the youngand enthusiastic Duchess of Bellamont instantly recognised the 'man ofGod;' and from that moment the right reverend prelate became, in allspiritual affairs, her infallible instructor, although the impendingsecond Reformation did chance to take the untoward form of theemancipation of the Roman Catholics, followed in due season by thedestruction of Protestant bishoprics, the sequestration of Protestanttithes, and the endowment of Maynooth. 

In speculating on the fate of public institutions and the course ofpublic affairs, it is important that we should not permit our attentionto be engrossed by the principles on which they are founded and thecircumstances which they present, but that we should also rememberhow much depends upon the character of the individuals who are in theposition to superintend or to direct them. 

The Church of England, mainly from its deficiency of oriental knowledge, and from a misconception of the priestly character which has been theconsequence of that want, has fallen of late years into great straits;nor has there ever been a season when it has more needed for its guidesmen possessing the higher qualities both of intellect and disposition. About five-and-twenty years ago, it began to be discerned that the timehad gone by, at least in England, for bishoprics to serve as appanagesfor the younger sons of great families. The Arch-Mediocrity whothen governed this country, and the mean tenor of whose prolongedadministration we have delineated in another work, was impressed withthe necessity of reconstructing the episcopal bench on principles ofpersonal distinction and ability. But his notion of clerical capacitydid not soar higher than a private tutor who had suckled a young nobleinto university honours; and his test of priestly celebrity was thedecent editorship of a Greek play. He sought for the successors of theapostles, for the stewards of the mysteries of Sinai and of Calvary, among third-rate hunters after syllables. 

These men, notwithstanding their elevation, with one exception, subsidedinto their native insignificance; and during our agitated age, when theprinciples of all institutions, sacred and secular, have been calledin question; when, alike in the senate and the market-place, both thedoctrine and the discipline of the Church have been impugned, its powerassailed, its authority denied, the amount of its revenues investigated, their disposition criticised, and both attacked; not a voice has beenraised by these mitred nullities, either to warn or to vindicate; not aphrase has escaped their lips or their pens, that ever influenced publicopinion, touched the heart of nations, or guided the conscience of aperplexed people. If they were ever heard of it was that they had beenpelted in a riot. 

The exception which we have mentioned to their sorry careers was thatof the too adventurous prophet of the second Reformation; the _ductordubitantium_ appealed to by the Duchess of Bellamont, to convince herson that the principles of religious truth, as well as of politicaljustice, required no further investigation; at least by youngmarquesses. 

The ready audacity with which this right reverend prelate had stoodsponsor for the second Reformation is a key to his character. Hecombined a great talent for action with very limited powers of thought. 

Bustling, energetic, versatile, gifted with an indomitable perseverance, and stimulated by an ambition that knew no repose, with a capacity formastering details and an inordinate passion for affairs, he couldpermit nothing to be done without his interference, and consequentlywas perpetually involved in transactions which were either failures orblunders. He was one of those leaders who are not guides. Having littlereal knowledge, and not endowed with those high qualities of intellectwhich permit their possessor to generalise the details afforded by studyand experience, and so deduce rules of conduct, his lordship, when hereceived those frequent appeals which were the necessary consequenceof his officious life, became obscure, confused, contradictory, inconsistent, illogical. The oracle was always dark. 

Placed in a high post in an age of political analysis, the bustlingintermeddler was unable to supply society with a single solution. Enunciating secondhand, with characteristic precipitation, some bigprinciple in vogue, as if he were a discoverer, he invariably shrankfrom its subsequent application the moment that he found it might beunpopular and inconvenient. All his quandaries terminated in the samecatastrophe; a compromise. Abstract principles with him ever endedin concrete expediency. The aggregate of circumstances outweighed theisolated cause. The primordial tenet, which had been advocated withuncompromising arrogance, gently subsided into some second-rate measurerecommended with all the artifice of an impenetrable ambiguity. 

Beginning with the second Reformation, which was a little rash butdashing, the bishop, always ready, had in the course of his episcopalcareer placed himself at the head of every movement in the Church whichothers had originated, and had as regularly withdrawn at the rightmoment, when the heat was over, or had become, on the contrary, excessive. Furiously evangelical, soberly high and dry, and ferventlyPuseyite, each phasis of his faith concludes with what the Spaniardsterm a 'transaction. ' The saints are to have their new churches, butthey are also to have their rubrics and their canons; the universitiesmay supply successors to the apostles, but they are also presentedwith a church commission; even the Puseyites may have candles on theiraltars, but they must not be lighted. 

It will be seen, therefore, that his lordship was one of thosecharacters not ill-adapted to an eminent station in an age like thepresent, and in a country like our own; an age of movement, but ofconfused ideas; a country of progress, but too rich to risk much change. Under these circumstances, the spirit of a period and a people seeks asafety-valve in bustle. They do something, lest it be said that theydo nothing. At such a time, ministers recommend their measures asexperiments, and parliaments are ever ready to rescind their votes. Find a man who, totally destitute of genius, possesses neverthelessconsiderable talents; who has official aptitude, a volubility of routinerhetoric, great perseverance, a love of affairs; who, embarrassedneither by the principles of the philosopher nor by the prejudices ofthe bigot, can assume, with a cautious facility, the prevalent tone, anddisembarrass himself of it, with a dexterous ambiguity, the moment itceases to be predominant; recommending himself to the innovator by hisapprobation of change 'in the abstract, ' and to the conservative by hisprudential and practical respect for that which is established; sucha man, though he be one of an essentially small mind, though hisintellectual qualities be less than moderate, with feeble powers ofthought, no imagination, contracted sympathies, and a most loose publicmorality; such a man is the individual whom kings and parliamentswould select to govern the State or rule the Church. Change, 'in theabstract, ' is what is wanted by a people who are at the same timeinquiring and wealthy. Instead of statesmen they desire shufflers; andcompromise in conduct and ambiguity in speech are, though nobody willconfess it, the public qualities now most in vogue. 

Not exactly, however, those calculated to meet the case of Tancred. The interview was long, for Tan-cred listened with apparent respectand deference to the individual under whose auspices he had entered theChurch of Christ; but the replies to his inquiries, though more adroitthan the duke's, were in reality not more satisfactory, and could not, in any way, meet the inexorable logic of Lord Montacute. The bishopwas as little able as the duke to indicate the principle on which thepresent order of things in England was founded; neither faith norits consequence, duty, was at all illustrated or invigorated by hishandling. He utterly failed in reconciling a belief in ecclesiasticaltruth with the support of religious dissent. When he tried to definein whom the power of government should repose, he was lost in a maze ofphrases, and afforded his pupil not a single fact. 

'It cannot be denied, ' at length said Tancred, with great calmness, 'that society was once regulated by God, and that now it is regulated byman. For my part, I prefer divine to self-government, and I wish to knowhow it is to be attained. '

'The Church represents God upon earth, ' said the bishop. 

'But the Church no longer governs man, ' replied Tancred. 

'There is a great spirit rising in the Church, ' observed the bishop, with thoughtful solemnity; 'a great and excellent spirit. The Church of1845 is not the Church of 1745. We must remember that; we know not whatmay happen. We shall soon see a bishop at Manchester. '

'But I want to see an angel at Manchester. '

'An angel!'

'Why not? Why should there not be heavenly messengers, when heavenlymessages are most wanted?'

'We have received a heavenly message by one greater than the angels, 'said the bishop. 'Their visits to man ceased with the mightier advent. '

'Then why did angels appear to Mary and her companions at the holytomb?' inquired Tancred. 

The interview from which so much was anticipated was not satisfactory. The eminent prelate did not realise Tancred's ideal of a bishop, whilehis lordship did not hesitate to declare that Lord Montacute was avisionary. 

CHAPTER XI. 

 _Advice from a Man of the World_

WHEN the duchess found that the interview with the bishop had beenfruitless of the anticipated results, she was staggered, disheartened;but she was a woman of too high a spirit to succumb under a firstdefeat. She was of opinion that his lordship had misunderstood the case, or had mismanaged it; her confidence in him, too, was not so illimitablesince he had permitted the Puseyites to have candles on their altars, although he had forbidden their being lighted, as when he had declared, twenty years before, that the finger of God was about to protestantiseIreland. His lordship had said and had done many things since thattime which had occasioned the duchess many misgivings, although she hadchosen that they should not occur to her recollection until he failed inconvincing her son that religious truth was to be found in the parishof St. James, and political justice in the happy haunts of MontacuteForest. 

The Bishop had voted for the Church Temporalities' Bill in 1833, whichat one swoop had suppressed ten Irish episcopates. This was a queersuffrage for the apostle of the second Reformation. True it is thatWhiggism was then in the ascendant, and two years afterwards, whenWhiggism had received a heavy blow and great discouragement; when we hadbeen blessed in the interval with a decided though feeble Conservativeadministration, and were blessed at the moment with a strong thoughundecided Conservative opposition; his lordship, with characteristicactivity, had galloped across country into the right line again, denounced the Appropriation Clause in a spirit worthy of his earlierdays, and, quite forgetting the ten Irish bishoprics, that onlyfour-and-twenty months before he had doomed to destruction, was all forproselytising Ireland again by the efficacious means of Irish Protestantbishops. 

'The bishop says that Tancred is a visionary, ' said the duchess to herhusband, with an air of great displeasure. 'Why, it is because he isa visionary that we sent him to the bishop. I want to have his falseimaginings removed by one who has the competent powers of learning andargument, and the authority of a high and holy office. A visionary, indeed! Why, so are the Puseyites; they are visionaries, and hislordship has been obliged to deal with them; though, to be sure, if hespoke to Tancred in a similar fashion, I am not surprised that my sonhas returned unchanged! This is the most vexatious business that everoccurred to us. Something must be done; but what to fix on? What doyou think, George? Since speaking to the bishop, of which you so muchapproved, has failed, what do you recommend?'

While the duchess was speaking, she was seated in her boudoir, lookinginto the Green Park; the duke's horses were in the courtyard, and he wasabout to ride down to the House of Lords; he had just looked in, as washis custom, to say farewell till they met again. 

'I am sorry that the interview with the bishop has failed, ' said theduke, in a hesitating tone, and playing with his riding-stick; and thenwalking up to the window and looking into the Park, he said, apparentlyafter reflection, 'I always think the best person to deal with avisionary is a man of the world. '

'But what can men of the world know of such questions?' said theduchess, mournfully. 

'Very little, ' said her husband, 'and therefore they are never betrayedinto arguments, which I fancy always make people more obstinate, even ifthey are confuted. Men of the world have a knack of settling everythingwithout discussion; they do it by tact. It is astonishing how manydifficulties I have seen removed--by Eskdale, for example--which itseemed that no power on earth could change, and about which we had beenarguing for months. There was the Cheadle churches case, for example; itbroke up some of the oldest friendships in the county; even Hungerfordand Ilderton did not speak. I never had a more anxious time of it; and, as far as I was personally concerned, I would have made any sacrificeto keep a good understanding in the county. At last I got the businessreferred to Eskdale, and the affair was ultimately arranged toeverybody's satisfaction. I don't know how he managed: it was quiteimpossible that he could have offered any new arguments, but he did itby tact. Tact does not remove difficulties, but difficulties melt awayunder tact. '

'Heigho!' sighed the duchess. 'I cannot understand how tact can tellus what is religious truth, or prevent my son from going to the HolySepulchre. '

'Try, ' said the duke. 

'Shall you see our cousin to-day, George?'

'He is sure to be at the House, ' replied the duke, eagerly. 'I tell youwhat I propose, Kate: Tancred is gone to the House of Commons to hearthe debate on Maynooth; I will try and get our cousin to come home anddine with us, and then we can talk over the whole affair at once. Whatsay you?'

'Very well. '

'We have failed with a bishop; we will now try a man of the world; andif we are to have a man of the world, we had better have a firstrateone, and everybody agrees that our cousin----'

'Yes, yes, George, ' said the duchess, 'ask him to come; tell him it isvery urgent, that we must consult him immediately; and then, if he beengaged, I dare say he will manage to come all the same. '

Accordingly, about half-past eight o'clock, the two peers arrived atBellamont House together. They were unexpectedly late; they had beendetained at the House. The duke was excited; even Lord Esk-dale lookedas if something had happened. Something had happened; there had been adivision in the House of Lords. Rare and startling event! It seemedas if the peers were about to resume their functions. Divisions inthe House of Lords are now-a-days so thinly scattered, that, when oneoccurs, the peers cackle as if they had laid an egg. They are quiteproud of the proof of their still procreative powers. The divisionto-night had not been on a subject of any public interest or importance;but still it was a division, and, what was more, the Government had beenleft in a minority. True, the catastrophe was occasioned by a mistake. The dictator had been asleep during the debate, woke suddenly from adyspeptic dream, would make a speech, and spoke on the wrong side. A lively colleague, not yet sufficiently broken in to the frigiddiscipline of the High Court of Registry, had pulled the great man onceby his coat-tails, a House of Commons practice, permitted to the Cabinetwhen their chief is blundering, very necessary sometimes for a livelyleader, but of which Sir Robert highly disapproves, as the arrangementof his coat-tails, next to beating the red box, forms the most importantpart of his rhetorical accessories. The dictator, when he at lengthcomprehended that he had made a mistake, persisted in adhering to it;the division was called, some of the officials escaped, the rest wereobliged to vote with their ruthless master; but his other friends, gladof an opportunity of asserting their independence and administering tothe dictator a slight check in a quiet inoffensive way, put him in aminority; and the Duke of Bellamont and Lord Eskdale had contributed tothis catastrophe. 

Dinner was served in the library; the conversation during it was chieflythe event of the morning. The duchess, who, though not a partisan, wassomething of a politician, thought it was a pity that the dictator hadever stepped out of his military sphere; her husband, who had neverbefore seen a man's coat-tails pulled when he was speaking, dilated muchupon the singular circumstance of Lord Spur so disporting himself on thepresent occasion; while Lord Eskdale, who had sat for a long time inthe House of Commons, and who was used to everything, assured his cousinthat the custom, though odd, was by no means irregular. 'I remember, 'said his lordship, 'seeing Ripon, when he was Robinson, and Huskisson, each pulling one of Canning's coat-tails at the same time. '

Throughout dinner not a word about Tancred. Lord Eskdale neither askedwhere he was nor how he was. At length, to the great relief of theduchess, dinner was finished; the servants had disappeared. The dukepushed away the table; they drew their chairs round the hearth; LordEskdale took half a glass of Madeira, then stretched his legs a little, then rose, stirred the fire, and then, standing with his back to itand his hands in his pockets, said, in a careless tone approaching to adrawl, 'And so, duchess, Tancred wants to go to Jerusalem?'

'George has told you, then, all our troubles?' 'Only that; he left therest to you, and I came to hear it. '

Whereupon the duchess went off, and spoke for a considerable timewith great animation and ability, the duke hanging on every word withvigilant interest, Lord Eskdale never interrupting her for an instant;while she stated the case not only with the impassioned feeling ofa devoted mother, but occasionally with all the profundity of atheologian. She did not conceal from him the interview between Tancredand the bishop; it was her last effort, and had failed; and so, 'afterall our plans, ' she ended, 'as far as I can form an opinion, he isabsolutely more resolved than ever to go to Jerusalem. '

'Well, ' said his lordship, 'it is at least better than going to theJews, which most men do at his time of life. '

'I cannot agree even to that, ' said the duchess; 'for I would ratherthat he should be ruined than die. '

'Men do not die as they used, ' said his lordship. 'Ask the annuityoffices; they have all raised their rates. '

'I know nothing about annuity offices, but I know that almost everybodydies who goes to those countries; look at young Fernborough, he was justTancred's age; the fevers alone must kill him. '

'He must take some quinine in his dressing-case, ' said Lord Eskdale. 

'You jest, Henry, ' said the duchess, disappointed, 'when I am indespair. '

'No, ' said Lord Eskdale, looking up to the ceiling, 'I am thinking howyou may prevent Tancred from going to Jerusalem, without, at the sametime, opposing his wishes. '

'Ay, ay, ' said the duke, 'that is it. ' And he looked triumphantly tohis wife, as much as to say, 'Now you see what it is to be a man of theworld. '

'A man cannot go to Jerusalem as he would to Birmingham, by the nexttrain, ' continued his lordship; 'he must get something to take him; andif you make the sacrifice of consenting to his departure, you have aright to stipulate as to the manner in which he should depart. Your sonought to travel with a suite; he ought to make the voyage in his ownyacht. Yachts are not to be found like hack cabs, though there areseveral for sale now; but then they are not of the admeasurement ofwhich you approve for such a voyage and such a sea. People talk verylightly of the Mediterranean, but there are such things as whitesqualls. Anxious parents, and parents so fond of a son as you are, and ason whose life for so many reasons is so precious, have a right to makeit a condition of their consent to his departure, that he should embarkin a vessel of considerable tonnage. He will find difficulty in buyingone second-hand; if he finds one it will not please him. He will getinterested in yacht-building, as he is interested now about Jerusalem:both boyish fancies. He will stay another year in England to build ayacht to take him to the Holy Land; the yacht will be finished this timetwelvemonths; and, instead of going to Palestine, he will go to Cowes. '

'That is quite my view of the case, ' said the duke. 

'It never occurred to me, ' said the duchess. 

Lord Eskdale resumed his seat, and took another half-glass of Madeira. 

'Well, I think it is very satisfactory, Katherine, ' said the duke, aftera short pause. 

'And what do you recommend us to do first?' said the duchess to LordEskdale. 

'Let Tancred go into society: the best way for him to forget Jerusalemis to let him see London. '

'But how can I manage it?' said the duchess. 'I never go anywhere;nobody knows him, and he does not wish to know anybody. '

'I will manage it, with your permission; 'tis not difficult; a youngmarquess has only to evince an inclination, and in a week's time he willbe everywhere. I will tell Lady St. Julians and the great ladies to sendhim invitations; they will fall like a snow-storm. All that remains isfor you to prevail upon him to accept them. '

'And how shall I contrive it?' said the duchess. 

'Easily, ' said Lord Eskdale. 'Make his going into society, while hisyacht is preparing, one of the conditions of the great sacrifice you aremaking. He cannot refuse you: 'tis but the first step. A youth feels alittle repugnance to launching into the great world: 'tis shyness; butafter the plunge, the great difficulty is to restrain rather than toincite. Let him but once enter the world, and be tranquil, he will soonfind something to engage him. '

'As long as he does not take to play, ' said the duke, 'I do not muchcare what he does. '

'My dear George!' said the duchess, 'how can you say such things! I wasin hopes, ' she added, in a mournful tone, 'that we might have settledhim, without his entering what you call the world, Henry. Dearest child!I fancy him surrounded by pitfalls. '

CHAPTER XII. 

 _The Dreamer Enters Society_

AFTER this consultation with Lord Eskdale, the duchess became easier inher mind. She was of a sanguine temper, and with facility believed whatshe wished. Affairs stood thus: it was agreed by all that Tancred shouldgo to the Holy Land, but he was to go in his own yacht; which yachtwas to be of a firstrate burthen, and to be commanded by an officer inH. M. S. ; and he was to be accompanied by Colonel Brace, Mr. Bernard, andMr. Roby; and the servants were to be placed entirely under the controlof some trusty foreigner accustomed to the East, and who was to bechosen by Lord Eskdale. In the meantime, Tancred had acceded to the wishof his parents, that until his departure he should mix much in society. The duchess calculated that, under any circumstances, three monthsmust elapse before all the arrangements were concluded; and she feltpersuaded that, during that period, Tancred must become enamoured of hiscousin Katherine, and that the only use of the yacht would be to takethem all to Ireland. The duke was resolved only on two points: that hisson should do exactly as his son liked, and that he himself would nevertake the advice, on any subject, of any other person than Lord Eskdale. 

In the meantime Tancred was launched, almost unconsciously, into thegreat world. The name of the Marquess of Montacute was foremost in thosedelicate lists by which an eager and admiring public is apprised who, among their aristocracy, eat, drink, dance, and sometimes pray. From thesaloons of Bel-grave and Grosvenor Square to the sacred recesses ofthe Chapel Royal, the movements of Lord Montacute were tracked andregistered, and were devoured every morning, oftener with a keenerrelish than the matin meal of which they formed a regular portion. England is the only country which enjoys the unspeakable advantage ofbeing thus regularly, promptly, and accurately furnished with cataloguesof those favoured beings who are deemed qualified to enter the houses ofthe great. What condescension in those who impart the information! Whatindubitable evidence of true nobility! What superiority to all pettyvanity! And in those who receive it, what freedom from all littlefeelings! No arrogance on one side; on the other, no envy. It is onlycountries blessed with a free press that can be thus favoured. Even afree press is not alone sufficient. Besides a free press, you must havea servile public. 

After all, let us be just. The uninitiated world is apt to believe thatthere is sometimes, in the outskirts of fashion, an eagerness, scarcelyconsistent with self-respect, to enter the mansions of the great. Not atall: few people really want to go to their grand parties. It is not thecharms of conversation, the flash of wit or the blaze of beauty, theinfluential presence of the powerful and celebrated, all the splendourand refinement, which, combined, offer in a polished saloon so muchto charm the taste and satisfy the intellect, that the mass of socialpartisans care anything about. What they want is, not so much to bein her ladyship's house as in her ladyship's list. After the party atConingsby Castle, our friend, Mrs. Guy Flouncey, at length succeededin being asked to one of Lady St. Julians' assemblies. It was a greattriumph, and Mrs. Guy Flouncey determined to make the most of it. Shewas worthy of the occasion. But alas! next morning, though admitted tothe rout, Mrs. Guy Flouncey was left out of the list! It was a severeblow! But Mrs. Guy Flouncey is in every list now, and even strikesout names herself. But there never was a woman who advanced with suchdexterity. 

Lord Montacute was much shocked, when, one morning, taking up a journal, he first saw his name in print. He was alone, and he blushed; felt, indeed, extremely distressed, when he found that the English people wereformally made acquainted with the fact that he had dined on the previousSaturday with the Earl and Countess of St. Julians; 'a grand banquet, 'of which he was quite unconscious until he read it; and that he wasafterwards 'observed' at the Opera. 

He found that he had become a public character, and he was not by anymeans conscious of meriting celebrity. To be pointed at as he walkedthe streets, were he a hero, or had done, said, or written anything thatanybody remembered, though at first painful and embarrassing, for he wasshy, he could conceive ultimately becoming endurable, and not without adegree of excitement, for he was ambitious; but to be looked at becausehe was a young lord, and that this should be the only reason why thepublic should be informed where he dined, or where he amused himself, seemed to him not only vexatious but degrading. When he arrived, however, at a bulletin of his devotions, he posted off immediately tothe Surrey Canal to look at a yacht there, and resolved not to loseunnecessarily one moment in setting off for Jerusalem. 

He had from the first busied himself about the preparations for hisvoyage with all the ardour of youth; that is, with all the energy ofinexperience, and all the vigour of simplicity. As everything seemedto depend upon his obtaining a suitable vessel, he trusted to no thirdperson; had visited Cowes several times; advertised in every paper;and had already met with more than one yacht which at least deservedconsideration. The duchess was quite frightened at his progress. 'Iam afraid he has found one, ' she said to Lord Eskdale; 'he will be offdirectly. '

Lord Eskdale shook his head. 'There are always things of this sort inthe market. He will inquire before he purchases, and he will find thathe has got hold of a slow coach. '

'A slow coach!' said the duchess, looking inquiringly. 'What is that?'

'A tub that sails like a collier, and which, instead of taking him toJerusalem, will hardly take him to Newcastle. '

Lord Eskdale was right. Notwithstanding all his ardour, all hisinquiries, visits to Cowes and the Surrey Canal, advertisements andanswers to advertisements, time flew on, and Tancred was still without ayacht. 

In this unsettled state, Tancred found himself one evening at DeloraineHouse. It was not a ball, it was only a dance, brilliant and select;but, all the same, it seemed to Tancred that the rooms could not bemuch more crowded. The name of the Marquess of Montacute, as it was sentalong by the servants, attracted attention. Tancred had scarcely enteredthe world, his appearance had made a sensation, everybody talked of him, many had not yet seen him. 

'Oh! that is Lord Montacute, ' said a great lady, looking through herglass; 'very distinguished!'

'I tell you what, ' whispered Mr. Ormsby to Lord Valentine, 'you youngmen had better look sharp; Lord Montacute will cut you all out!'

'Oh! he is going to Jerusalem, ' said Lord Valentine. 

'Jerusalem!' said Mr. Ormsby, shrugging his shoulders. 'What can he findto do at Jerusalem?'

'What, indeed, ' said Lord Milford. 'My brother was there in '39; he gotleave after the bombardment of Acre, and he says there is absolutely nosport of any kind. '

'There used to be partridges in the time of Jeremiah, ' said Mr. Ormsby;'at least they told us so at the Chapel Royal last Sunday, where, by-the-bye, I saw Lord Montacute for the first time; and a deucedgood-looking fellow he is, ' he added, musingly. 

'Well, there is not a bird in the whole country now, ' said Lord Milford. 

'Montacute does not care for sport, ' said Lord Valentine. 

'What does he care for?' asked Lord Milford. 'Because, if he wants anyhorses, I can let him have some. '

'He wants to buy a yacht, ' said Lord Valentine; 'and that reminds methat I heard to-day Exmouth wanted to get rid of "The Flower of Yarrow, "and I think it would suit my cousin. I'll tell him of it. ' And hefollowed Tancred. 

'You and Valentine must rub up your harness, Milford, 'said Mr. Ormsby; 'there is a new champion in the field. We are talking of LordMontacute, ' continued Mr. Ormsby, addressing himself to Mr. Melton, whojoined them; 'I tell Milford he will cut you all out. '

'Well, ' said Mr. Melton, 'for my part I have had so much success, that Ihave no objection, by way of change, to be for once eclipsed. '

'Well done, Jemmy, ' said Lord Milford. 

'I see, Melton, ' said Mr. Ormsby, 'you are reconciled to your fate likea philosopher. '

'Well, Montacute, ' said Lord St. Patrick, a good-tempered, wittyMilesian, with a laughing eye, 'when are you going to Jericho?'

'Tell me, ' said Tancred, in reply, and rather earnestly, 'who is that?'And he directed the attention of Lord St. Patrick to a young lady, rather tall, a brilliant complexion, classic features, a profusion oflight brown hair, a face of intelligence, and a figure rich and yetgraceful. 

'That is Lady Constance Rawleigh; if you like, I will introduce you toher. She is my cousin, and deuced clever. Come along!'

In the meantime, in the room leading to the sculpture gallery where theyare dancing, the throng is even excessive. As the two great divisions, those who would enter the gallery and those who are quitting it, encounter each other, they exchange flying phrases as they pass. 

'They told me you had gone to Paris! I have just returned. Dear me, how time flies! Pretty dance, is it not? Very. Do you know whether theMadlethorpes mean to come up this year? I hardly know; their little girlis very ill. Ah! so I hear; what a pity, and such a fortune! Such a pitywith such a fortune! How d'ye do? Mr. Coningsby here? No; he's at theHouse. They say he is a very close attendant. It interests him. Well, Lady Florentina, you never sent me the dances. Pardon, but you will findthem when you return. I lent them to Augusta, and she would copy them. Is it true that I am to congratulate you? Why? Lady Blanche? Oh! that isa romance of Easter week. Well, I am really delighted; I think such anexcellent match for both; exactly suited to each other. They think so. Well, that is one point. How well Lady Everingham is looking! She isquite herself again. Quite. Tell me, have you seen M. De Talleyrandhere? I spoke to him but this moment. Shall you be at Lady Blair'sto-morrow? No; I have promised to go to Mrs. Guy Flouncey's. She hastaken Craven Cottage, and is to be at home every Saturday. Well, if youare going, I think I shall. I would; everybody will be there. '

Lord Montacute had conversed some time with Lady Constance; then he haddanced with her; he had hovered about her during the evening. It wasobserved, particularly by some of the most experienced mothers. LadyConstance was a distinguished beauty of two seasons; fresh, but adroit. It was understood that she had refused offers of a high calibre; butthe rejected still sighed about her, and it was therefore supposed that, though decided, she had the art of not rendering them desperate. Oneat least of them was of a rank equal to that of Tancred. She had thereputation of being very clever, and of being able, if it pleased her, to breathe scorpions as well as brilliants and roses. It had got aboutthat she admired intellect, and, though she claimed the highest socialposition, that a booby would not content her, even if his ears werecovered with strawberry leaves. 

In the cloak-room, Tancred was still at her side, and was presented toher mother, Lady Charmouth. 

'I am sorry to separate, ' said Tancred. 

'And so am I, ' said Lady Constance, smiling; 'but one advantage of thislife is, we meet our friends every day. '

'I am not going anywhere to-morrow, where I shall meet you, ' saidTancred, 'unless you chance to dine at the Archbishop of York's. '

'I am not going to dine with the Archbishop of York, ' said LadyConstance, 'but I am going, where everybody else is going, to breakfastwith Mrs. Guy Flouncey, at Craven Cottage. Why, will not you be there?'

'I have not the honour of knowing her, ' said Tancred. 

'That is not of the slightest consequence; she will be very happy tohave the honour of knowing you. I saw her in the dancing-room, but itis not worth while waiting to speak to her now. You shall receive aninvitation the moment you are awake. '

'But to-morrow I have an engagement. I have to look at a yacht. '

'But that you can look at on Monday; besides, if you wish to knowanything about yachts, you had better speak to my brother, Fitz-Heron, who has built more than any man alive. '

'Perhaps he has one that he wishes to part with?' said Tancred. 

'I have no doubt of it. You can ask him tomorrow at Mrs. GuyFlouncey's. '

'I will. Lady Charmouth's carriage is called. May I have the honour?'said Tancred, offering his arm. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

 _A Feminine Diplomatist_

THERE is nothing so remarkable as feminine influence. Although thecharacter of Tancred was not completely formed--for that result depends, in some degree, upon the effect of circumstances at a certain time oflife, as well as on the impulse of a natural bent--still the temper ofhis being was profound and steadfast. He had arrived, in solitude andby the working of his own thought, at a certain resolution, which hadassumed to his strong and fervent imagination a sacred character, andwhich he was determined to accomplish at all costs. He had broughthimself to the point that he would not conceive an obstacle that shouldbaulk him. He had acceded to the conditions which had been made by hisparents, for he was by nature dutiful, and wished to fulfil his-purpose, if possible, with their sanction. 

Yet he had entered society with repugnance, and found nothing in itsgeneral tone with which his spirit harmonised. He was alone in thecrowd; silent, observing, and not charmed. There seemed to him generallya want of simplicity and repose; too much flutter, not a littleaffectation. People met in the thronged chambers, and interchanged briefwords, as if they were always in a hurry. 'Have you been here long?Where are you going next?' These were the questions which seemed to formthe staple of the small talk of a fashionable multitude. Why, too, was there a smile on every countenance, which often also assumed thecharacter of a grin? No error so common or so grievous as to supposethat a smile is a necessary ingredient of the pleasing. There are fewfaces that can afford to smile. A smile is sometimes bewitching, ingeneral vapid, often a contortion. But the bewitching smile usuallybeams from the grave face. It is then irresistible. Tancred, though hewas unaware of it, was gifted with this rare spell. He had inheritedit from his mother; a woman naturally earnest and serious, and of asingular simplicity, but whose heart when pleased spoke in the dimplingsunshine of her cheek with exquisite beauty. The smiles of the Duchessof Bellamont, however, were like her diamonds, brilliant, but rarelyworn. 

Tancred had not mounted the staircase of Deloraine House with anyanticipation of pleasure. His thoughts were far away amid cities of thedesert, and by the palmy banks of ancient rivers. He often took refugein these exciting and ennobling visions, to maintain himself when heunderwent the ceremony of entering a great house. He was so shy inlittle things, that to hear his name sounded from servant to servant, echoing from landing-place to landing-place, was almost overwhelming. Nothing but his pride, which was just equal to his reserve, preventedhim from often turning back on the stairs and precipitately retreating. And yet he had not been ten minutes in Deloraine House, before he hadabsolutely requested to be introduced to a lady. It was the first timehe had ever made such a request. 

He returned home, softly musing. A tone lingered in his ear; he recalledthe countenance of one absent. In his dressing-room he lingeredbefore he retired, with his arm on the mantel-piece, and gazing withabstraction on the fire. 

When his servant called him, late in the morning, he delivered to him acard from Mrs. Guy Flouncey, inviting him on that day to Craven Cottage, at three o'clock: 'déjeûner at four o'clock precisely. ' Tancred took thecard, looked at it, and the letters seemed to cluster together and formthe countenance of Lady Constance. 'It will be a good thing to go, ' hesaid, 'because I want to know Lord Fitz-Heron; he will be of great useto me about my yacht. ' So he ordered his carriage at three o'clock. 

The reader must not for a moment suppose that Mrs. Guy Flouncey, thoughshe was quite as well dressed, and almost as pretty, as she was when atConingsby Castle in 1837, was by any means the same lady who then stroveto amuse and struggled to be noticed. By no means. In 1837, Mrs. GuyFlouncey was nobody; in 1845, Mrs. Guy Flouncey was somebody, andsomebody of very great importance. Mrs. Guy Flouncey had invadedsociety, and had conquered it, gradually, but completely, like theEnglish in India. Social invasions are not rare, but they are seldomfortunate, or success, if achieved, is partial, and then only sustainedat immense cost, like the French in Algiers. 

The Guy Flounceys were not people of great fortune. They had a goodfortune; seven or eight thousand a year. But then, with an air of greatexpenditure, even profusion, there was a basis of good management. And agood fortune with good management, and without that equivocal luxury, agreat country-house, is almost equal to the great fortune of a peer. But they not only had no country-house, they had no children. And a goodfortune, with good management, no country-house, and no children, isAladdin's lamp. 

Mr. Guy Flouncey was a sporting character. His wife had impressed uponhim that it was the only way in which he could become fashionable andacquainted with 'the best men. ' He knew just enough of the affair notto be ridiculous; and, for the rest, with a great deal of rattle andapparent heedlessness of speech and deed, he was really an extremelyselfish and sufficiently shrewd person, who never compromised himself. It is astonishing with what dexterity Guy Flouncey could extricatehimself from the jaws of a friend, who, captivated by his thoughtlesscandour and ostentatiously good heart, might be induced to request Mr. Flouncey to lend him a few hundreds, only for a few months, or, morediplomatically, might beg his friend to become his security for a fewthousands, for a few years. 

Mr. Guy Flouncey never refused these applications; they were exactlythose to which it delighted his heart to respond, because nothingpleased him more than serving a friend. But then he always had to writea preliminary letter of preparation to his banker, or his steward, orhis confidential solicitor; and, by some contrivance or other, without offending any one, rather with the appearance of conferring anobligation, it ended always by Mr. Guy Flouncey neither advancing thehundreds, nor guaranteeing the thousands. He had, indeed, managed, like many others, to get the reputation of being what is called 'a goodfellow;' though it would have puzzled his panegyrists to allege a singleact of his that evinced a good heart. This sort of pseudo reputation, whether for good or for evil, is not uncommon in the world. Man ismimetic; judges of character are rare; we repeat without thought theopinions of some third person, who has adopted them without inquiry;and thus it often happens that a proud, generous man obtains in time thereputation of being 'a screw, ' because he has refused to lend moneyto some impudent spendthrift, who from that moment abuses him; and acold-hearted, civil-spoken personage, profuse in costless services, witha spice of the parasite in him, or perhaps hospitable out of vanity, is invested with all the thoughtless sympathies of society, and passescurrent as that most popular of characters, 'a good fellow. '

Guy Flouncey's dinners began to be talked of among men: it became asort of fashion, especially among sporting men, to dine with Mr. GuyFlouncey, and there they met Mrs. Guy Flouncey. Not an opening everescaped her. If a man had a wife, and that wife was a personage, sooneror later, much as she might toss her head at first, she was sure tovisit Mrs. Guy Flouncey, and, when she knew her, she was sure to likeher. The Guy Flounceys never lost a moment; the instant the season wasover, they were at Cowes, then at a German bath, then at Paris, then atan English country-house, then in London. 

Seven years, to such people, was half a century of social experience. They had half a dozen seasons in every year. Still, it was hard work, and not rapid. At a certain point they stuck, as all do. Most people, then, give it up; but patience, Buff on tells us, is genius, and Mrs. Guy Flouncey was, in her way, a woman of genius. Their dinners were, ina certain sense, established: these in return brought them to a certaindegree into the dinner world; but balls, at least balls of a highcalibre, were few, and as for giving a ball herself, Mrs. Guy Flounceycould no more presume to think of that than of attempting to prorogueParliament. The house, however, got really celebrated for 'the bestmen. ' Mrs. Guy Flouncey invited all the young dancing lords to dinner. Mothers will bring their daughters where there are young lords. Mrs. GuyFlouncey had an opera-box in the best tier, which she took only to lendto her friends; and a box at the French play, which she took only tobribe her foes. They were both at everybody's service, like Mr. GuyFlouncey's yacht, provided the persons who required them were membersof that great world in which Mrs. Guy Flouncey had resolved to plantherself. 

Mrs. Guy Flouncey was pretty; she was a flirt on principle; thus she hadcaught the Marquess of Beaumanoir, who, if they chanced to meet, always spoke to her, which gave Mrs. Guy Flouncey fashion. But Mrs. GuyFlouncey was nothing more than a flirt, She never made a mistake; shewas born with strong social instincts. She knew that the fine ladiesamong whom, from the first, she had determined to place herself, weremoral martinets with respect to any one not born among themselves. That which is not observed, or, if noticed, playfully alluded to inthe conduct of a patrician dame, is visited with scorn and contumely ifcommitted by some 'shocking woman, ' who has deprived perhaps a countessof the affections of a husband who has not spoken to her for years. But if the countess is to lose her husband, she ought to lose him to aviscountess, at least. In this way the earl is not lost to 'society. '

A great nobleman met Mrs. Guy Flouncey at a country-house, and wasfairly captivated by her. Her pretty looks, her coquettish manner, hervivacity, her charming costume, above all, perhaps, her imperturbablegood temper, pierced him to the heart. The great nobleman's wife had theweakness to be annoyed. Mrs. Guy Flouncey saw her opportunity. She threwover the earl, and became the friend of the countess, who could neversufficiently evince her gratitude to the woman who would not make loveto her husband. This friendship was the incident for which Mrs. GuyFlouncey had been cruising for years. Men she had vanquished; they hadgiven her a sort of _ton_ which she had prudently managed. She had notdestroyed herself by any fatal preference. Still, her fashion among mennecessarily made her unfashionable among women, who, if they did notabsolutely hate her, which they would have done had she had a noblelover, were determined not to help her up the social ladder. Now she hada great friend, and one of the greatest of ladies. The moment she hadpondered over for years had arrived. Mrs. Guy Flouncey determined atonce to test her position. Mrs. Guy Flouncey resolved on giving a ball. 

But some of our friends in the country will say, 'Is that all? Surelyit required no very great resolution, no very protracted pondering, todetermine on giving a ball! Where is the difficulty? The lady has but tolight up her house, hire the fiddlers, line her staircase with Americanplants, perhaps enclose her balcony, order Mr. Gunter to provide plentyof the best refreshments, and at one o'clock a superb supper, and, withthe company of your friends, you have as good a ball as can be desiredby the young, or endured by the old. '

Innocent friends in the country! You might have all these things. Yourhouse might be decorated like a Russian palace, blazing with the mostbrilliant lights and breathing the richest odours; you might haveJullien presiding over your orchestra, and a banquet worthy of theRomans. As for your friends, they might dance until daybreak, and agreethat there never was an entertainment more tasteful, more sumptuous, and, what would seem of the first importance, more merry. But, havingall these things, suppose you have not a list? You have given a ball, you have not a list. The reason is obvious: you are ashamed of yourguests. You are not in 'society. '

But even a list is not sufficient for success. You must also get aday: the most difficult thing in the world. After inquiring among yourfriends, and studying the columns of the _Morning Post_, you discoverthat, five weeks hence, a day is disengaged. You send out your cards;your house is dismantled; your lights are arranged; the American plantshave arrived; the band, perhaps two bands, are engaged. Mr. Gunter hashalf dressed your supper, and made all your ice, when suddenly, withineight-and-forty hours of the festival which you have been five weekspreparing, the Marchioness of Deloraine sends out cards for a ball inhonour of some European sovereign who has just alighted on our isle, andmeans to stay only a week, and at whose court, twenty years ago, LordDeloraine was ambassador. Instead of receiving your list, you areobliged to send messengers in all directions to announce that yourball is postponed, although you are perfectly aware that not a singleindividual would have been present whom you would have cared to welcome. 

The ball is postponed; and next day the _Morning Post_ informs us it ispostponed to that day week; and the day after you have circulated thisinteresting intelligence, you yourself, perhaps, have the gratificationof receiving an invitation, for the same day, to Lady St. Julians': with'dancing' neatly engraved in the corner. You yield in despair; andthere are some ladies who, with every qualification for an excellentball-guests, Gunter, American plants, pretty daughters have beenwatching and waiting for years for an opportunity of giving it; and atlast, quite hopeless, at the end of the season, expend their funds ina series of Greenwich banquets, which sometimes fortunately produce theresults expected from the more imposing festivity. 

You see, therefore, that giving a ball is not that matter-of-courseaffair you imagined; and that for Mrs. Guy Flouncey to give a ball andsucceed, completely, triumphantly to succeed, was a feat worthy of thatfine social general. Yet she did it. The means, like everything that isgreat, were simple. She induced her noble friend to ask her guests. Hernoble friend canvassed for her as if it were a county election of thegood old days, when the representation of a shire was the certainavenue to a peerage, instead of being, as it is now, the high road to apoor-law commissionership. 

Many were very glad to make the acquaintance of Mrs. Guy Flouncey; manyonly wanted an excuse to make the acquaintance of Mrs. Guy Flouncey;they went to her party because they were asked by their dear friend, Lady Kingcastle. As for the potentates, there is no disguise on thesesubjects among them. They went to Mrs. Guy Flouncey's ball because onewho was their equal, not only in rank, but in social influence, hadrequested it as a personal favour, she herself, when the occasionoffered, being equally ready to advance their wishes. The fact was, thataffairs were ripe for the recognition of Mrs. Guy Flouncey as a memberof the social body. Circumstances had been long maturing. The GuyFlounceys, who, in the course of their preparatory career, had hoppedfrom Park Crescent to Portman Square, had now perched upon their'splendid mansion' in Belgrave Square. Their dinners were renowned. Mrs. Guy Flouncey was seen at all the 'best balls, ' and was always surroundedby the 'best men. ' Though a flirt and a pretty woman, she was a discreetparvenue, who did not entrap the affections of noble husbands. Aboveall, she was the friend of Lady Kingcastle, who called her and herhusband 'those good Guy Flounceys. '

The ball was given; you could not pass through Belgrave Square thatnight. The list was published; it formed two columns of the MorningPost. Lady Kingcastle was honoured by the friendship of a royal duchess. She put the friendship to the proof, and her royal highness was seen atMrs. Guy Flouncey's ball. Imagine the reception, the canopy, the scarletcloth, the 'God save the King' from the band of the first guards, bivouacked in the hall, Mrs. Guy Flouncey herself performing her partas if she had received princesses of the blood all her life; so reverentand yet so dignified, so very calm and yet with a sort of winning, sunny innocence. Her royal highness was quite charmed with her hostess, praised her much to Lady Kingcastle, told her that she was glad that shehad come, and even stayed half an hour longer than Mrs. Guy Flounceyhad dared to hope. As for the other guests, the peerage was gutted. The Dictator himself was there, and, the moment her royal highness hadretired, Mrs. Guy Flouncey devoted herself to the hero. All the greatladies, all the ambassadors, all the beauties, a full chapter of theGarter, a chorus among the 'best men' that it was without doubt the'best ball' of the year, happy Mrs. Guy Flouncey! She threw a glance ather swing-glass while Mr. Guy Flouncey, who 'had not had time to getanything the whole evening, ' was eating some supper on a tray in herdressing-room at five o'clock in the morning, and said, 'We have done itat last, my love!'

She was right; and from that moment Mrs. Guy Flouncey was asked to allthe great houses, and became a lady of the most unexceptionable _ton_. 

But all this time we are forgetting her _déjeûner_, and that Tancredis winding his way through the garden lanes of Fulham to reach CravenCottage. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

 _The Coningsbys_

THE day was brilliant: music, sunshine, ravishing bonnets, littleparasols that looked like large butterflies. The new phaetons glidedup, then carriages-and-four swept by; in general the bachelors wereensconced in their comfortable broughams, with their glasses down andtheir blinds drawn, to receive the air and to exclude the dust; someless provident were cavaliers, but, notwithstanding the well-wateredroads, seemed a little dashed as they cast an anxious glance at therose which adorned their button-hole, or fancied that they felt a flyingblack from a London chimney light upon the tip of their nose. 

Within, the winding walks dimly echoed whispering words; the lawn wasstudded with dazzling groups; on the terrace by the river a daintymultitude beheld those celebrated waters which furnish flounders toRichmond and whitebait to Blackwall. 

'Mrs. Coningsby shall decide, ' said Lord Beaumanoir. 

Edith and Lady Theresa Lyle stood by a statue that glittered in the sun, surrounded by a group of cavaliers; among them Lord Beaumanoir, LordMil-ford, Lord Eugene de Vere. Her figure was not less lithe andgraceful since her marriage, a little more voluptuous; her richcomplexion, her radiant and abounding hair, and her long grey eye, nowmelting with pathos, and now twinkling with mockery, presented one ofthose faces of witchery which are beyond beauty. 

'Mrs. Coningsby shall decide. '

'It is the very thing, ' said Edith, 'that Mrs. Coningsby will never do. Decision destroys suspense, and suspense is the charm of existence. '

'But suspense may be agony, ' said Lord Eugene de Vere, casting a glancethat would read the innermost heart of Edith. 

'And decision may be despair, ' said Mrs. Coningsby. 

'But we agreed the other night that you were to decide everything forus, ' said Lord Beaumanoir; 'and you consented. '

'I consented the other night, and I retract my consent to-day; and I amconsistent, for that is indecision. '

'You are consistent in being charming, ' said Lord Eugene. 

'Pleasing and original!' said Edith. 'By-the-bye, when I consented thatthe melancholy Jaques should be one of my aides-de-camp I expected himto maintain his reputation, not only for gloom but wit. I think you hadbetter go back to the forest, Lord Eugene, and see if you cannotstumble upon a fool who may drill you in repartee. How do you do, LadyRiddlesworth?' and she bowed to two ladies who seemed inclined to stop, but Edith added, 'I heard great applications for you this moment on theterrace. '

'Indeed!' exclaimed the ladies; and they moved on. 

'When Lady Riddlesworth joins the conversation it is like a stoppage inthe streets. I invented a piece of intelligence to clear the way, asyou would call out Fire! or The queen is coming! There used to be thingscalled _vers de société_, which were not poetry; and I do not see whythere should not be social illusions which are not fibs. '

'I entirely agree with you, ' said Lord Milford; 'and I move that wepractise them on a large scale. '

'Like the verses, they might make life more light, ' said Lady Theresa. 

'We are surrounded by illusions, ' said Lord Eugene, in a melancholytone. 

'And shams of all descriptions, ' said Edith; 'the greatest, a man whopretends he has a broken heart when all the time he is full of fun. '

'There are a great many men who have broken hearts, ' said LordBeaumanoir, smiling sorrowfully. 

'Cracked heads are much commoner, ' said Edith, 'you may rely upon it. The only man I really know with a broken heart is Lord Fitz-Booby. I dothink that paying Mount-Dullard's debts has broken his heart. He takeson so; 'tis piteous. "My dear Mrs. Coningsby, " he said to me last night, "only think what that young man might have been; he might have been alord of the treasury in '35; why, if he had had nothing more in '41, why, there's a loss of between four and five thousand pounds; but withmy claims--Sir Robert, having thrown the father over, was bound onhis own principle to provide for the son--he might have got somethingbetter; and now he comes to me with his debts, and his reason for payinghis debts, too, Mrs. Coningsby, because he is going to be married; tobe married to a woman who has not a shilling. Why, if he had been inoffice, and only got 1, 500L. A year, and married a woman with onlyanother 1, 500L. , he would have had 3, 000L. A year, Mrs. Coningsby; andnow he has nothing of his own except some debts, which he wants me topay, and settle 3, 000L. A year on him besides. "'

They all laughed. 

'Ah!' said Mrs. Coningsby, with a resemblance which made all start, 'youshould have heard it with the Fitz-Booby voice. '

The character of a woman rapidly develops after marriage, and sometimesseems to change, when in fact it is only complete. Hitherto we haveknown Edith only in her girlhood, bred up in a life of great simplicity, and under the influence of a sweet fancy, or an absorbing passion. Coningsby had been a hero to her before they met, the hero of nurseryhours and nursery tales. Experience had not disturbed those dreams. From the moment they encountered each other at Millbank, he assumed thatplace in her heart which he had long occupied in her imagination; and, after their second meeting at Paris, her existence was merged in love. All the crosses and vexations of their early affection only renderedthis state of being on her part more profound and engrossing. 

But though Edith was a most happy wife, and blessed with two childrenworthy of their parents, love exercises quite a different influenceupon a woman when she has married, and especially when she has assumeda social position which deprives life of all its real cares. Under anycircumstances, that suspense, which, with all its occasional agony, isthe great spring of excitement, is over; but, generally speaking, itwill be found, notwithstanding the proverb, that with persons of a noblenature, the straitened fortunes which they share together, andmanage, and mitigate by mutual forbearance, are more conducive to thesustainment of a high-toned and romantic passion, than a luxuriousprosperity. 

The wife of a man of limited fortune, who, by contrivance, by theconcealed sacrifice of some necessity of her own, supplies him with someslight enjoyment which he has never asked, but which she fancies he mayhave sighed for, experiences, without doubt, à degree of pleasure farmore ravishing than the patrician dame who stops her barouche at Storrand Mortimer's, and out of her pin-money buys a trinket for the husbandwhom she loves, and which he finds, perhaps, on his dressing-table, onthe anniversary of their wedding-day. That's pretty too and touching, and should be encouraged; but the other thrills, and ends in an embracethat is still poetry. 

The Coningsbys shortly after their marriage had been called to thepossession of a great fortune, for which, in every sense, they were welladapted. But a great fortune necessarily brings with it a great changeof habits. The claims of society proportionately increase with yourincome. You live less for yourselves. For a selfish man, merely lookingto his luxurious ease, Lord Eskdale's idea of having ten thousand ayear, while the world suppose you have only five, is the right thing. Coningsby, however, looked to a great fortune as one of the means, rightly employed, of obtaining great power. He looked also to his wifeto assist him in this enterprise. 

Edith, from a native impulse, as well as from love for him, respondedto his wish. When they were in the country, Hellingsley was a perpetualstream and scene of splendid hospitality; there the flower of Londonsociety mingled with all the aristocracy of the county. Leander wasoften retained specially, like a Wilde or a Kelly, to renovate thegenius of the habitual chief: not of the circuit, but the kitchen. A noble mansion in Park Lane received them the moment Parliamentassembled. Coningsby was then immersed in affairs, and counted entirelyon Edith to cherish those social influences which in a public careerare not less important than political ones. The whole weight of themanagement of society rested on her. She had to cultivate his alliances, keep together his friends, arrange his dinner-parties, regulate hisengagements. What time for romantic love? They were never an hour alone. Yet they loved not less; but love had taken the character of enjoymentinstead of a wild bewitchment; and life had become an airy bustle, instead of a storm, an agony, a hurricane of the heart. 

In this change in the disposition, not in the degree, of theiraffection, for there was the same amount of sweet solicitude, only itwas duly apportioned to everything that interested them, instead ofbeing exclusively devoted to each other, the character of Edith, whichhad been swallowed up by the absorbing passion, rapidly developed itselfamid the social circumstances. She was endued with great vivacity, asanguine and rather saucy spirit, with considerable talents, and a largeshare of feminine vanity: that divine gift which makes woman charming. Entirely sympathising with her husband, labouring with zeal to advancehis views, and living perpetually in the world, all these qualitiescame to light. During her first season she had been very quiet, not lessobservant, making herself mistress of the ground. It was preparedfor her next campaign. When she evinced a disposition to take a lead, although found faultless the first year, it was suddenly remembered thatshe was a manufacturer's daughter; and she was once described by a greatlady as 'that person whom Mr. Coningsby had married, when Lord Monmouthcut him off with a shilling. '

But Edith had anticipated these difficulties, and was not to be daunted. Proud of her husband, confident in herself, supported by a greatestablishment, and having many friends, she determined to exchangesalutes with these social sharp-shooters, who are scarcely as courageousas they are arrogant. It was discovered that Mrs. Coningsby could beas malicious as her assailants, and far more epigrammatic. She coulddescribe in a sentence and personify in a phrase. The _mot_ wascirculated, the _nom de nique_ repeated. Surrounded by a brilliantband of youth and wit, even her powers of mimickry were revealed to theinitiated. More than one social tyrant, whom all disliked, but whomnone had ventured to resist, was made ridiculous. Flushed by success andstimulated by admiration, Edith flattered herself that she was assistingher husband while she was gratifying her vanity. Her adversaries soonvanished, but the powers that had vanquished them were too choice tobe forgotten or neglected. The tone of raillery she had assumed forthe moment, and extended, in self-defence, to persons, was adopted as ahabit, and infused itself over affairs in general. 

Mrs. Coningsby was the fashion; she was a wit as well as a beauty; afascinating droll; dazzling and bewitching, the idol of every youth. Eugene de Vere was roused from his premature exhaustion, and at lastfound excitement again. He threw himself at her feet; she laughed athim. He asked leave to follow her footsteps; she consented. He wasonly one of a band of slaves. Lord Beaumanoir, still a bachelor, alwayshovered about her, feeding on her laughing words with a mild melancholy, and sometimes bandying repartee with a kind of tender and statelydespair. His sister, Lady Theresa Lyle, was Edith's great friend. Theirdispositions had some resemblance. Marriage had developed in bothof them a frolic grace. They hunted in couple; and their sport wasbrilliant. Many things may be said by a strong female alliance, thatwould assume quite a different character were they even to fall from thelips of an Aspasia to a circle of male votaries; so much depends uponthe scene and the characters, the mode and the manner. 

The good-natured world would sometimes pause in its amusement, and, after dwelling with statistical accuracy on the number of times Mrs. Coningsby had danced the polka, on the extraordinary things she said toLord Eugene de Vere, and the odd things she and Lady Theresa Lyle wereperpetually doing, would wonder, with a face and voice of innocence, 'how Mr. Coningsby liked all this?' There is no doubt what was theanticipation by the good-natured world of Mr. Coningsby's feelings. Butthey were quite mistaken. There was nothing that Mr. Coningsby likedmore. He wished his wife to become a social power; and he wished hiswife to be amused. He saw that, with the surface of a life of levity, she already exercised considerable influence, especially over the young;and independently of such circumstances and considerations, he wasdelighted to have a wife who was not afraid of going into society byherself; not one whom he was sure to find at home when he returnedfrom the House of Commons, not reproaching him exactly for her socialsacrifices, but looking a victim, and thinking that she retained herhusband's heart by being a mope. Instead of that Con-ingsby wanted to beamused when he came home, and more than that, he wanted to be instructedin the finest learning in the world. 

As some men keep up their Greek by reading every day a chapter in theNew Testament, so Con-ingsby kept up his knowledge of the world, byalways, once at least in the four-and-twenty hours, having a delightfulconversation with his wife. The processes were equally orthodox. Exempted from the tax of entering general society, free to follow hisown pursuits, and to live in that political world which alone interestedhim, there was not an anecdote, a trait, a good thing said, or a badthing done, which did not reach him by a fine critic and a livelynarrator. He was always behind those social scenes which, after all, regulate the political performers, knew the springs of the wholemachinery, the chang-ings and the shiftings, the fiery cars and goldenchariots which men might mount, and the trap-doors down which men mightfall. 

But the Marquess of Montacute is making his reverence to Mrs. GuyFlouncey. 

There was not at this moment a human being whom that lady was more gladto see at her _déjeûner_; but she did not show it in the least. Herself-possession, indeed, was the finest work of art of the day, andought to be exhibited at the Adelaide Gallery. Like all mechanicalinventions of a high class, it had been brought to perfection verygradually, and after many experiments. A variety of combinations, andan almost infinite number of trials, must have been expended before thetoo-startling laugh of Con-ingsby Castle could have subsided into thehaughty suavity of that sunny glance, which was not familiar enough fora smile, nor foolish enough for a simper. As for the rattling vein whichdistinguished her in the days of our first acquaintance, that had longceased. Mrs. Guy Flouncey now seemed to share the prevalent passion forgenuine Saxon, and used only monosyllables; while Fine-ear himself wouldhave been sometimes at fault had he attempted to give a name to herdelicate breathings. In short, Mrs. Guy Flouncey never did or saidanything but in 'the best taste. ' It may, however, be a question, whether she ever would have captivated Lord Monmouth, and those wholike a little nature and fun, if she had made her first advances in thisstyle. But that showed the greatness of the woman. Then she was readyfor anything for promotion. That was the age of forlorn hopes; but nowshe was a general of division, and had assumed a becoming carriage. 

This was the first _déjeûner_ at which Tancred had been present. Herather liked it. The scene, lawns and groves and a glancing river, theair, the music, our beautiful countrywomen, who, with their brilliantcomplexions and bright bonnets, do not shrink from the daylight, theseare circumstances which, combined with youth and health, make a morningfestival, say what they like, particularly for the first time, veryagreeable, even if one be dreaming of Jerusalem. Strange power of theworld, that the moment we enter it, our great conceptions dwarf! Inyouth it is quick sympathy that degrades them; more advanced, it is thesense of the ridiculous. But perhaps these reveries of solitude may notbe really great conceptions; perhaps they are only exaggerations;vague, indefinite, shadowy, formed on no sound principles, founded on noassured basis. 

Why should Tancred go to Jerusalem? What does it signify to him whetherthere be religious truth or political justice? He has youth, beauty, rank, wealth, power, and all in excess. He has a mind that cancomprehend their importance and appreciate their advantages. What moredoes he require? Unreasonable boy! And if he reach Jerusalem, why shouldhe find religious truth and political justice there? He can read ofit in the travelling books, written by young gentlemen, with the bestletters of introduction to all the consuls. They tell us what it is, athird-rate city in a stony wilderness. Will the Providence of fashionprevent this great folly about to be perpetrated by one born to befashion's most brilliant subject? A folly, too, which may end in acatastrophe? His parents, indeed, have appealed in vain; but thesneer of the world will do more than the supplication of the father. Amother's tear may be disregarded, but the sigh of a mistress has changedthe most obdurate. We shall see. At present Lady Constance Rawleighexpresses her pleasure at Tancred's arrival, and his heart beats alittle. 

CHAPTER XV. 

 _Disenchantment_

THEY are talking about it, ' said Lord Eskdale to the duchess, as shelooked up to him with an expression of the deepest interest. 'He askedSt. Patrick to introduce him to her at Deloraine House, danced with her, was with her the whole evening, went to the breakfast on Saturday tomeet her, instead of going to Blackwall to see a yacht he was after. '

'If it were only Katherine, ' said the duchess, 'I should be quitehappy. '

'Don't be uneasy, ' said Lord Eskdale; 'there will be plenty ofKatherines and Constances, too, before he finishes. The affair is notmuch, but it shows, as I foretold, that, the moment he found somethingmore amusing, his taste for yachting would pass off. ' 'You are right, you always are. ' What really was this affair, which Lord Eskdale heldlightly? With a character like Tancred, everything may become important. Profound and yet simple, deep in self-knowledge yet inexperienced, hisreserve, which would screen him from a thousand dangers, was just thequality which would insure his thraldom by the individual who could onceeffectually melt the icy barrier and reach the central heat. At thismoment of his life, with all the repose, and sometimes even the highceremony, on the surface, he was a being formed for high-reachingexploits, ready to dare everything and reckless of all consequences, ifhe proposed to himself an object which he believed to be just and great. This temper of mind would, in all things, have made him act with thatrapidity, which is rashness with the weak, and decision with the strong. The influence of woman on him was novel. It was a disturbing influence, on which he had never counted in those dreams and visions in which therehad figured more heroes than heroines. In the imaginary interviews inwhich he had disciplined his solitary mind, his antagonists had beenstatesmen, prelates, sages, and senators, with whom he struggled andwhom he vanquished. 

He was not unequal in practice to his dreams. His shyness would havevanished in an instant before a great occasion; he could have addresseda public assembly; he was capable of transacting important affairs. These were all situations and contingencies which he had foreseen, andwhich for him were not strange, for he had become acquainted with themin his reveries. But suddenly he was arrested by an influence for whichhe was unprepared; a precious stone made him stumble who was to havescaled the Alps. Why should the voice, the glance, of another agitatehis heart? The cherubim of his heroic thoughts not only deserted him, but he was left without the guardian angel of his shyness. He melted, and the iceberg might degenerate into a puddle. 

Lord Eskdale drew his conclusions like a clever man of the world, and ingeneral he would have been right; but a person like Tancred was in muchgreater danger of being captured than a common-place youth enteringlife with second-hand experience, and living among those who ruled hisopinions by their sneers and sarcasms. A malicious tale by a spitefulwoman, the chance ribaldry of a club-room window, have often been theimpure agencies which have saved many a youth from committing a greatfolly; but Tancred was beyond all these influences. If they hadbeen brought to bear on him, they would rather have precipitated thecatastrophe. His imagination would have immediately been summoned to therescue of his offended pride; he would have invested the object ofhis regard with supernatural qualities, and consoled her for theimpertinence of society by his devotion. 

Lady Constance was clever; she talked like a married woman, wascritical, yet easy; and having guanoed her mind by reading Frenchnovels, had a variety of conclusions on all social topics, which shethrew forth with unfaltering promptness, and with the well-arranged airof an impromptu. These were all new to Tancred, and startling. He wasattracted by the brilliancy, though he often regretted the tone, whichhe ascribed to the surrounding corruption from which he intended toescape, and almost wished to save her at the same time. SometimesTancred looked unusually serious; but at last his rare and brilliantsmile beamed upon one who really admired him, was captivated by hisintellect, his freshness, his difference from all around, hispensive beauty and his grave innocence. Lady Constance was free fromaffectation; she was frank and natural; she did not conceal the pleasureshe had in his society; she conducted herself with that dignifiedfacility, becoming a young lady who had already refused the hands of twofuture earls, and of the heir of the Clan-Alpins. 

A short time after the _déjeûner_ at Craven Cottage, Lord Montacutecalled on Lady Charmouth. She was at home, and received him with greatcordiality, looking up from her frame of worsted work with a benignmaternal expression; while Lady Constance, who was writing an urgentreply to a note that had just arrived, said rapidly some agreeablewords of welcome, and continued her task. Tancred seated himself by themother, made an essay in that small talk in which he was by no meanspractised, but Lady Charmouth helped him on without seeming to do so. The note was at length dispatched, Tancred of course still remaining atthe mother's side, and Lady Constance too distant for his wishes. He hadnothing to say to Lady Charmouth; he began to feel that the pleasure offeminine society consisted in talking alone to her daughter. 

While he was meditating a retreat, and yet had hardly courage to riseand walk alone down a large long room, a new guest was announced. Tancred rose, and murmured good-morning; and yet, somehow or other, instead of quitting the apartment, he went and seated himself by LadyConstance. It really was as much the impulse of shyness, which soughta nook of refuge, as any other feeling that actuated him; but LadyConstance seemed pleased, and said in a low voice and in a carelesstone, ''Tis Lady Bran-cepeth; do you know her? Mamma's great friend;'which meant, you need give yourself no trouble to talk to any one butmyself. 

After making herself very agreeable, Lady Constance took up a bookwhich was at hand, and said, 'Do you know this?' And Tancred, opening avolume which he had never seen, and then turning to its titlepage, foundit was 'The Revelations of Chaos, ' a startling work just published, andof which a rumour had reached him. 

'No, ' he replied; 'I have not seen it. '

'I will lend it you if you like: it is one of those books one must read. It explains everything, and is written in a very agreeable style. '

'It explains everything!' said Tancred; 'it must, indeed, be a veryremarkable book!'

'I think it will just suit you, ' said Lady Constance. 'Do you know, Ithought so several times while I was reading it. '

'To judge from the title, the subject is rather obscure, ' said Tancred. 

'No longer so, ' said Lady Constance. 'It is treated scientifically;everything is explained by geology and astronomy, and in that way. Itshows you exactly how a star is formed; nothing can be so pretty! Acluster of vapour, the cream of the Milky Way, a sort of celestialcheese, churned into light, you must read it, 'tis charming. '

'Nobody ever saw a star formed, ' said Tancred. 

'Perhaps not. You must read the "Revelations;" it is all explained. Butwhat is most interesting, is the way in which man has been developed. You know, all is development. The principle is perpetually going on. First, there was nothing, then there was something; then, I forget thenext, I think there were shells, then fishes; then we came, let me see, did we come next? Never mind that; we came at last. And the next changethere will be something very superior to us, something with wings. Ah!that's it: we were fishes, and I believe we shall be crows. But you mustread it. '

'I do not believe I ever was a fish, ' said Tancred. 'Oh! but it is allproved; you must not argue on my rapid sketch; read the book. It isimpossible to contradict anything in it. You understand, it is allscience; it is not like those books in which one says one thing andanother the contrary, and both may be wrong. Everything is proved: bygeology, you know. You see exactly how everything is made; how manyworlds there have been; how long they lasted; what went before, whatcomes next. We are a link in the chain, as inferior animals were thatpreceded us: we in turn shall be inferior; all that will remain of uswill be some relics in a new red sandstone. This is development. We hadfins; we may have wings. '

Tancred grew silent and thoughtful; Lady Bran-cepeth moved, and herose at the same time. Lady Charmouth looked as if it were by no meansnecessary for him to depart, but he bowed very low, and then badefarewell to Lady Constance, who said, 'We shall meet to-night. '

'I was a fish, and I shall be a crow, ' said Tancred to himself, when thehall door closed on him. 'What a spiritual mistress! And yesterday, fora moment, I almost dreamed of kneeling with her at the Holy Sepulchre! Imust get out of this city as quickly as possible; I cannot cope withits corruption. The acquaintance, however, has been of use to me, forI think I have got a yacht by it. I believe it was providential, and atrial. I will go home and write instantly to Fitz-Heron, and accept hisoffer. One hundred and eighty tons: it will do; it must. '

At this moment he met Lord Eskdale, who had observed Tancred from theend of Grosvenor Square, on the steps of Lord Charmouth's door. Thiscircumstance ill prepared Lord Eskdale for Tancred's salutation. 

'My dear lord, you are just the person I wanted to meet. You promised torecommend me a servant who had travelled in the East. '

'Well, are you in a hurry?' said Lord Eskdale, gaining time, andpumping. 

'I should like to get off as soon as practicable. ' 'Humph!' said LordEskdale. 'Have you got a yacht?' 'I have. '

'Oh! So you want a servant?' he added, after a moment's pause. 

'I mentioned that, because you were so kind as to say you could help mein that respect. '

'Ah! I did, ' said Lord Eskdale, thoughtfully. 'But I want a great manythings, ' continued Tancred. 'I must make arrangements about money; Isuppose I must get some letters; in fact, I want generally your advice. '

'What are you going to do about the colonel and the rest?'

'I have promised my father to take them, ' said Tancred, 'though I feelthey will only embarrass me. They have engaged to be ready at a week'snotice; I shall write to them immediately. If they do not fulfil theirengagement, I am absolved from mine. '

'So you have got a yacht, eh?' said Lord Eskdale. 'I suppose you havebought the Basilisk?'

'Exactly. '

'She wants a good deal doing to her. '

'Something, but chiefly for show, which I do not care about; but I meanto get away, and refit, if necessary, at Gibraltar. I must go. '

'Well, if you must go, ' said his lordship, and then he added, 'and insuch a hurry; let me see. You want a firstrate managing man, used to theEast, and letters, and money, and advice. Hem! You don't know Sidonia?'

'Not at all. '

'He is the man to get hold of, but that is so difficult now. He nevergoes anywhere. Let me see, this is Monday; to-morrow is post-day, andI dine with him alone in the City. Well, you shall hear from me onWednesday morning early, about everything; but I would not write to thecolonel and his friends just yet. '

CHAPTER XVI. 

 _Tancred Rescues a Lady in Distress_

THAT is most striking in London is its vastness. It is the illimitablefeeling that gives it a special character. London is not grand. Itpossesses only one of the qualifications of a grand city, size; but itwants the equally important one, beauty. It is the union of these twoqualities that produced the grand cities, the Romes, the Babylons, the hundred portals of the Pharaohs; multitudes and magnificence; themillions influenced by art. Grand cities are unknown since the beautifulhas ceased to be the principle of invention. Paris, of modern capitals, has aspired to this character; but if Paris be a beautiful city, itcertainly is not a grand one; its population is too limited, and, fromthe nature of their dwellings, they cover a comparatively small space. Constantinople is picturesque; nature has furnished a sublime site, butit has little architectural splendour, and you reach the environs with afatal facility. London overpowers us with its vastness. 

Place a Forum or an Acropolis in its centre, and the effect of themetropolitan mass, which now has neither head nor heart, instead ofbeing stupefying, would be ennobling. Nothing more completely representsa nation than a public building. A member of Parliament only represents, at the most, the united constituencies: but the Palace of the Sovereign, a National Gallery, or a Museum baptised with the name of the country, these are monuments to which all should be able to look up with pride, and which should exercise an elevating influence upon the spirit of thehumblest. What is their influence in London? Let us not criticise whatall condemn. But how remedy the evil? What is wanted in architecture, as in so many things, is a man. Shall we find a refuge in a Committee ofTaste? Escape from the mediocrity of one to the mediocrity of many? Weonly multiply our feebleness, and aggravate our deficiencies. But onesuggestion might be made. No profession in England has done its dutyuntil it has furnished its victim. The pure administration of justicedates from the deposition of Macclesfield. Even our boasted navy neverachieved a great victory until we shot an admiral. Suppose an architectwere hanged? Terror has its inspiration as well as competition. 

Though London is vast, it is very monotonous. All those new districtsthat have sprung up within the last half-century, the creatures of ourcommercial and colonial wealth, it is impossible to conceive anythingmore tame, more insipid, more uniform. Pancras is like Mary-le-bone, Mary-le-bone is like Paddington; all the streets resemble each other, you must read the names of the squares before you venture to knock ata door. This amount of building capital ought to have produced a greatcity. What an opportunity for architecture suddenly summoned to furnishhabitations for a population equal to that of the city of Bruxelles, and a population, too, of great wealth. Mary-le-bone alone ought to haveproduced a revolution in our domestic architecture. It did nothing. Itwas built by Act of Parliament. Parliament prescribed even a façade. Itis Parliament to whom we are indebted for your Gloucester Places, andBaker Streets, and Harley Streets, and Wimpole Streets, and all thoseflat, dull, spiritless streets, resembling each other like a largefamily of plain children, with Portland Place and Portman Square fortheir respectable parents. The influence of our Parliamentary Governmentupon the fine arts is a subject worth pursuing. The power that producedBaker Street as a model for street architecture in its celebratedBuilding Act, is the power that prevented Whitehall from beingcompleted, and which sold to foreigners all the pictures which the Kingof England had collected to civilise his people. 

In our own days we have witnessed the rapid creation of a newmetropolitan quarter, built solely for the aristocracy by an aristocrat. The Belgrave district is as monotonous as Mary-le-bone; and is socontrived as to be at the same time insipid and tawdry. 

Where London becomes more interesting is Charing Cross. Looking toNorthumberland House, and turning your back upon Trafalgar Square, theStrand is perhaps the finest street in Europe, blending the architectureof many periods; and its river ways are a peculiar feature and rich withassociations. Fleet Street, with its Temple, is not unworthy of beingcontiguous to the Strand. The fire of London has deprived us of thedelight of a real old quarter of the city; but some bits remain, andeverywhere there is a stirring multitude, and a great crush and crash ofcarts and wains. The Inns of Court, and the quarters in the vicinity ofthe port, Thames Street, Tower Hill, Billingsgate, Wapping, Rotherhithe, are the best parts of London; they are full of character: the buildingsbear a nearer relation to what the people are doing than in the morepolished quarters. 

The old merchants of the times of the first Georges were a fine race. They knew their position, and built up to it. While the territorialaristocracy, pulling down their family hotels, were raising vulgarstreets and squares upon their site, and occupying themselves one ofthe new tenements, the old merchants filled the straggling lanes, whichconnected the Royal Exchange with the port of London, with mansionswhich, if not exactly equal to the palaces of stately Venice, might atleast vie with many of the hotels of old Paris. Some of these, though the great majority have been broken up into chambers andcounting-houses, still remain intact. 

In a long, dark, narrow, crooked street, which is still called a lane, and which runs from the south side of the street of the Lombards towardsthe river, there is one of these old houses of a century past, andwhich, both in its original design and present condition, is a noblespecimen of its order. A pair of massy iron gates, of elaborateworkmanship, separate the street from its spacious and airy court-yard, which is formed on either side by a wing of the mansion, itself abuilding of deep red brick, with a pediment, and pilasters, and copingsof stone. A flight of steps leads to the lofty and central doorway; inthe middle of the court there is a garden plot, inclosing a fountain, and a fine plane tree. 

The stillness, doubly effective after the tumult just quitted, thelulling voice of the water, the soothing aspect of the quiveringfoliage, the noble building, and the cool and capacious quadrangle, theaspect even of those who enter, and frequently enter, the precinct, andwho are generally young men, gliding in and out, earnest and fullof thought, all contribute to give to this locality something of theclassic repose of a college, instead of a place agitated with themost urgent interests of the current hour; a place that deals with thefortunes of kings and empires, and regulates the most important affairsof nations, for it is the counting-house in the greatest of moderncities of the most celebrated of modern financiers. 

It was the visit of Tancred to the City, on the Wednesday morning afterhe had met Lord Eskdale, that occasions me to touch on some of thecharacteristics of our capital. It was the first time that Tancred hadever been in the City proper, and it greatly interested him. His visitwas prompted by receiving, early on Wednesday morning, the followingletter:

'Dear Tancred: I saw Sidonia yesterday, and spoke to him of what youwant. He is much occupied just now, as his uncle, who attended toaffairs here, is dead, and, until he can import another uncle or cousin, he must steer the ship, as times are critical. But he bade me say youmight call upon him in the City to-day, at two o'clock. He lives inSequin Court, near the Bank. You will have no difficulty in findingit. I recommend you to go, as he is the sort of man who will reallyunderstand what you mean, which neither your father nor myself doexactly; and, besides, he is a person to know. 

'I enclose a line which you will send in, that there may be no mistake. I should tell you, as you are very fresh, that he is of the Hebrew race;so don't go on too much about the Holy Sepulchre. 

'Yours faithfully, 'ESKDALE. 

'Spring Gardens, Wednesday morning. '

It is just where the street is most crowded, where it narrows, andlosing the name of Cheapside, takes that of the Poultry, that the lastof a series of stoppages occurred; a stoppage which, at the end of tenminutes, lost its inert character of mere obstruction, anddeveloped into the livelier qualities of the row. There were oaths, contradictions, menaces: 'No, you sha'n't; Yes, I will; No, I didn't;Yes, you did; No, you haven't; Yes, I have;' the lashing of a whip, theinterference of a policeman, a crash, a scream. Tan-cred looked out ofthe window of his brougham. He saw a chariot in distress, a chariot suchas would have become an Ondine by the waters of the Serpentine, and thevery last sort of equipage that you could expect to see smashed in thePoultry. It was really breaking a butterfly upon a wheel to crush itsdelicate springs, and crack its dark brown panels, soil its daintyhammer-cloth, and endanger the lives of its young coachman in a flaxenwig, and its two tall footmen in short coats, worthy of Cinderella. 

The scream, too, came from a fair owner, who was surrounded by clamorouscarmen and city marshals, and who, in an unknown land, was afraid shemight be put in a city compter, because the people in the city haddestroyed her beautiful chariot. Tan-cred let himself out of hisbrougham, and not without difficulty contrived, through the narrow andcrowded passage formed by the two lines, to reach the chariot, which wascoming the contrary way to him. Some ruthless officials were persuadinga beautiful woman to leave her carriage, the wheel of which was broken. 'But where am I to go?' she exclaimed. 'Icannot walk. I will not leavemy carriage until you bring me some conveyance. You ought to punishthese people, who have quite ruined my chariot. '

'They say it was your coachman's fault; we have nothing to do with that;besides, you know who they are. Their employers' name is on the cart, Brown, Bugsby, and Co. , Limehouse. You can have your redress againstBrown, Bugsby, and Co. , Lime-house, if your coachman is not in fault;but you cannot stop up the way, and you had better get out, and let thecarriage be removed to the Steel-yard. '

'What am I to do?' exclaimed the lady with a tearful eye and agitatedface. 

'I have a carriage at hand, ' said Tancred, who at this moment reachedher, 'and it is quite at your service. '

The lady cast her beautiful eyes, with an expression of astonishment shecould not conceal, at the distinguished youth who thus suddenly appearedin the midst of insolent carmen, brutal policemen, and all the cynicalamateurs of a mob. Public opinion in the Poultry was against her; hercoachman's wig had excited derision; the footmen had given themselvesairs; there was a strong feeling against the shortcoats. As for thelady, though at first awed by her beauty and magnificence, they rebelledagainst the authority of her manner. Besides, she was not alone. Therewas a gentleman with her, who wore moustaches, and had taken a part inthe proceedings at first, by addressing the carmen in French. This wastoo much, and the mob declared he was Don Carlos. 

'You are too good, ' said the lady, with a sweet expression. 

[Illustration: page152]

Tancred opened the door of the chariot, the policemen pulled down thesteps, the servants were told to do the best they could with the wreckedequipage; in a second the lady and her companion were in Tancred'sbrougham, who, desiring his servants to obey all their orders, disappeared, for the stoppage at this moment began to move, and therewas no time for bandying compliments. 

He had gained the pavement, and had made his way as far as the MansionHouse, when, finding a group of public buildings, he thought it prudentto inquire which was the Bank. 

'That is the Bank, ' said a good-natured man, in a bustle, but taken byTancred's unusual appearance. 'What do you want? I am going there. '

'I do not want exactly the Bank, ' replied Tancred, 'but a placesomewhere near it. Do you happen to know, sir, a place called SequinCourt?'

'I should think I did, ' said the man, smiling. 'So you are going toSidonia's?'

CHAPTER XVII. 

 _The Wizard of Fortune_

TANCRED entered Sequin Court; a chariot with a foreign coronet was atthe foot of the great steps which he ascended. He was received by a fathall porter, who would not have disgraced his father's establishment, and who, rising with lazy insolence from his hooded chair, when heobserved that Tancred did not advance, asked the new comer whathe wanted. 'I want Monsieur de Sidonia. ' 'Can't see him now; he isengaged. ' 'I have a note for him. '

'Very well, give it me; it will be sent in. You can sit here. ' And theporter opened the door of a waiting-room, which Tancred declined toenter. 'I will wait here, thank you, ' said Tancred, and he looked roundat the old oak hall, on the walls of which were hung several portraits, and from which ascended one of those noble staircases never found in amodern London mansion. At the end of the hall, on a slab of porphyry, was a marble bust, with this inscription on it, '_Fundator_. ' It was thefirst Sidonia, by Chantrey. 

'I will wait here, thank you, ' said Tancred, looking round; and then, with some hesitation, he added, 'I have an appointment here at twoo'clock. '

As he spoke, that hour sounded from the belfry of an old city churchthat was at hand, and then was taken up by the chimes of a large Germanclock in the hall. 

'It may be, ' said the porter, 'but I can't disturb master now; theSpanish ambassador is with him, and others are waiting. When he is gone, a clerk will take in your letter with some others that are here. '

At this moment, and while Tancred remained in the hall, various personsentered, and, without noticing the porter, pursued their way across theapartment. 

'And where are those persons going?' inquired Tancred. 

The porter looked at the enquirer with a blended gaze of curiosity andcontempt, and then negligently answered him without looking in Tancred'sface, and while he was brushing up the hearth, 'Some are going to thecounting-house, and some are going to the Bank, I should think. '

'I wonder if our hall porter is such an infernal bully as Monsieur deSidonia's!' thought Tancred. 

There was a stir. 'The ambassador is coming out, ' said the hall porter;'you must not stand in the way. '

The well-trained ear of this guardian of the gate was conversant withevery combination of sound which the apartments of Sequin Court couldproduce. Close as the doors might be shut, you could not rise from yourchair without his being aware of it; and in the present instance he wascorrect. A door at the end of the hall opened, and the Spanish ministercame forth. 

'Stand aside, ' said the hall porter to Tancred; and, summoning theservants without, he ushered his excellency with some reverence to hiscarriage. 

'Now your letter will go in with the others, ' he said to Tancred, whomfor a few moments he left alone, and then returned, taking no notice ofour young friend, but, depositing his bulky form in his hooded chair, heresumed the city article of the _Times_. 

The letter ran thus:

'Dear Sidonia: This will be given you by my cousin Montacute, of whomI spoke to you yesterday. He wants to go to Jerusalem, which very muchperplexes his family, for he is an only child. I don't suppose thedanger is what they imagine. But still there is nothing like experience, and there is no one who knows so much of these things as yourself. Ihave promised his father and mother, very innocent people, whom of allmy relatives, I most affect, to do what I can for him. If, therefore, you can aid Montacute, you will really serve me. He seems to havecharacter, though I can't well make him out. I fear I indulged in thehock yesterday, for I feel a twinge. Yours faithfully, 'ESKDALE. 

'Wednesday morning. '

The hall clock had commenced the quarter chimes, when a young man, fair and intelligent, and wearing spectacles, came into the hall, and, opening the door of the waiting-room, looked as if he expected to findsome one there; then, turning to the porter, he said, 'Where is LordMontacute?'

The porter rose from his hooded chair, and put down the newspaper, butTancred had advanced when he heard his name, and bowed, and followed theyoung man in spectacles, who invited Tancred to accompany him. 

Tancred was ushered into a spacious and rather long apartment, panelledwith old oak up to the white coved ceiling, which was richly ornamented. Four windows looked upon the fountain and the plane tree. A portrait byLawrence, evidently of the same individual who had furnished the modelto Chantrey, was over the high, old-fashioned, but very handsome marblemantel-piece. A Turkey carpet, curtains of crimson damask, some largetables covered with papers, several easy chairs, against the walls someiron cabinets, these were the furniture of the room, at one corner ofwhich was a glass door, which led to a vista of apartments fitted up ascounting-houses, filled with clerks, and which, if expedient, might becovered by a baize screen, which was now unclosed. 

A gentleman writing at a table rose as he came in, and extending hishand said, as he pointed to a seat, 'I am afraid I have made you comeout at an unusual hour. '

The young man in spectacles in the meanwhile retired; Tancred had bowedand murmured his compliments: and his host, drawing his chair a littlefrom the table, continued: 'Lord Eskdale tells me that you have somethoughts of going to Jerusalem. '

'I have for some time had that intention. '

'It is a pity that you did not set out earlier in the year, and then youmight have been there during the Easter pilgrimage. It is a fine sight. '

'It is a pity, ' said Tancred; 'but to reach Jerusalem is with me anobject of so much moment, that I shall be content to find myself thereat any time, and under any circumstances. '

'It is no longer difficult to reach Jerusalem; the real difficulty isthe one experienced by the crusaders, to know what to do when you havearrived there. '

'It is the land of inspiration, ' said Tancred, slightly blushing; 'andwhen I am there, I would humbly pray that my course may be indicated tome. '

'And you think that no prayers, however humble, would obtain for youthat indication before your departure?'

'This is not the land of inspiration, ' replied Tancred, timidly. 

'But you have your Church, ' said Sidonia. 

'Which I hold of divine institution, and which should be under theimmediate influence of the Holy Spirit, ' said Tancred, dropping hiseyes, and colouring still more as he found himself already trespassingon that delicate province of theology which always fascinated him, butwhich it had been intimated to him by Lord Eskdale that he should avoid. 

'Is it wanting to you, then, in this conjuncture?' inquired hiscompanion. 

'I find its opinions conflicting, its decrees contradictory, its conductinconsistent, ' replied Tancred. 'I have conferred with one who isesteemed its most eminent prelate, and I have left him with a convictionof what I had for some time suspected, that inspiration is not only adivine but a local quality. '

'You and I have some reason to believe so, ' said Sidonia. 'I believethat God spoke to Moses on Mount Horeb, and you believe that he wascrucified, in the person of Jesus, on Mount Calvary. Both were, at leastcarnally, children of Israel: they spoke Hebrew to the Hebrews. Theprophets were only Hebrews; the apostles were only Hebrews. The churchesof Asia, which have vanished, were founded by a native Hebrew; and thechurch of Rome, which says it shall last for ever, and which convertedthis island to the faith of Moses and of Christ, vanquishing the Druids, Jupiter Olympius, and Woden, who had successively invaded it, was alsofounded by a native Hebrew. Therefore, I say, your suspicion or yourconviction is, at least, not a fantastic one. '

Tancred listened to Sidonia as he spoke with great interest, and with anearnest and now quite unembarrassed manner. The height of the argumenthad immediately surmounted all his social reserve. His intelligenceresponded to the great theme that had so long occupied his musinghours; and the unexpected character of a conversation which, as hehad supposed, would have mainly treated of letters of credit, the moreexcited him. 

'Then, ' said Tancred, with animation, 'seeing how things are, that I amborn in an age and in a country divided between infidelity on one sideand an anarchy of creeds on the other; with none competent to guideme, yet feeling that I must believe, for I hold that duty cannot existwithout faith; is it so wild as some would think it, I would say is itunreasonable, that I should wish to do that which, six centuries ago, was done by my ancestor whose name I bear, and that I should cross theseas, and----?' He hesitated. 

'And visit the Holy Sepulchre, ' said Sidonia. 

'And visit the Holy Sepulchre, ' said Tancred, solemnly; 'for that, Iconfess, is my sovereign thought. '

'Well, the crusades were of vast advantage to Europe, ' said Sidonia, 'and renovated the spiritual hold which Asia has always had upon theNorth. It seems to wane at present, but it is only the decrease thatprecedes the new development. '

'It must be so, ' said Tancred; 'for who can believe that a countryonce sanctified by the Divine Presence can ever be as other lands? Somecelestial quality, distinguishing it from all other climes, must forever linger about it. I would ask those mountains, that were reached byangels, why they no longer receive heavenly visitants. I would appealto that Comforter promised to man, on the sacred spot on which theassurance of solace was made. I require a Comforter. I have appealedto the holy influence in vain in England. It has not visited me; I knownone here on whom it has descended. I am induced, therefore, to believethat it is part of the divine scheme that its influence should be local;that it should be approached with reverence, not thoughtlessly andhurriedly, but with such difficulties and such an interval of time as apilgrimage to a spot sanctified can alone secure. '

Sidonia listened to Tancred with deep attention. Lord Montacute wasseated opposite the windows, so that there was a full light upon theplay of the countenance, the expression of which Sidonia watched, whilehis keen and far-reaching vision traced at the same time the formationand development of the head of his visitor. He recognised in this youthnot a vain and vague visionary, but a being in whom the faculties ofreason and imagination were both of the highest class, and bothequally developed. He observed that he was of a nature passionatelyaffectionate, and that he was of a singular audacity. He perceived thatthough, at this moment, Tancred was as ignorant of the world as ayoung monk, he possessed all the latent qualities which in future wouldqualify him to control society. When Tancred had finished speaking, there was a pause of a few seconds, during which Sidonia seemed lost inthought; then, looking up, he said, 'It appears to me, Lord Montacute, that what you want is to penetrate the great Asian mystery. '

'You have touched my inmost thought, ' said Tancred, eagerly. 

At this moment there entered the room, from the glass door, the sameyoung man who had ushered Tancred into the apartment. He brought aletter to Sidonia. Lord Montacute felt confused; his shyness returned tohim; he deplored the unfortunate interruption, but he felt he was inthe way. He rose, and began to say good-morning, when Sidonia, withouttaking his eyes off the letter, saw him, and waving his hand, stoppedhim, saying, 'I settled with Lord Eskdale that you were not to go awayif anything occurred which required my momentary attention. So pray sitdown, unless you have engagements. ' And Tancred again seated himself. 

'Write, ' continued Sidonia to the clerk, 'that my letters are twelvehours later than the despatches, and that the City continued quitetranquil. Let the extract from the Berlin letter be left at the sametime at the Treasury. The last bulletin?'

'Consols drooping at half-past two; all the foreign funds lower; sharesvery active. '

They were once more alone. 'When do you propose going?' 'I hope in aweek. ' 'Alone?'

'I fear I shall have many attendants. ' 'That is a pity. Well, whenyou arrive at Jerusalem, you will naturally go to the convent of TerraSanta. You will make there the acquaintance of the Spanish prior, AlonzoLara. He calls me cousin; he is a Nuevo of the fourteenth century. Veryorthodox; but the love of the old land and the old language have comeout in him, as they will, though his blood is no longer clear, but hasbeen modified by many Gothic intermarriages, which was never our case. We are pure Sephardim. Lara thoroughly comprehends Palestine and allthat pertains to it. He has been there a quarter of a century, and mighthave been Archbishop of Seville. You see, he is master of the old aswell as the new learning; this is very important; they often explaineach other. Your bishops here know nothing about these things. Howcan they? A few centuries back they were tattooed savages. This is theadvantage which Rome has over you, and which you never can understand. That Church was founded by a Hebrew, and the magnetic influencelingers. But you will go to the fountain head. Theology requires anapprenticeship of some thousand years at least; to say nothing of climeand race. You cannot get on with theology as you do with chemistry andmechanics. Trust me, there is something deeper in it. I shall give youa note to Lara; cultivate him, he is the man you want. You will wantothers; they will come; but Lara has the first key. '

'I am sorry to trouble you about such things, ' said Tancred, in ahesitating voice, 'but perhaps I may not have the great pleasure to seeyou again, and Lord Eskdale said that I was to speak to you about someletters of credit. '

'Oh! we shall meet before you go. But what you say reminds me ofsomething. As for money, there is only one banker in Syria; he iseverywhere, at Aleppo, Damascus, Beiroot, Jerusalem. It is Besso. Beforethe expulsion of the Egyptians, he really ruled Syria, but he is stillpowerful, though they have endeavoured to crush him at Constantinople. Iapplied to Metternich about him, and, besides that, he is mine. 

I shall give you a letter to him, but not merely for your money affairs. I wish you to know him. He lives in splendour at Damascus, moderatelyat Jerusalem, where there is little to do, but which he loves as aresidence, being a Hebrew. I wish you to know him. You will, I am sure, agree with me, that he is, without exception, the most splendid specimenof the animal man you ever became acquainted with. His name is Adam, andverily he looks as if he were in the garden of Eden before the fall. Buthis soul is as grand and as fine as his body. You will lean upon thisman as you would on a faithful charger. His divan is charming; you willalways find there the most intelligent people. You must learn to smoke. There is nothing that Besso cannot do; make him do everything you want;have no scruples; he will be gratified. Besides, he is one of those whokiss my signet. These two letters will open Syria to you, and any otherland, if you care to proceed. Give yourself no trouble about any otherpreparations. '

'And how am I to thank you?' said Tancred, rising; 'and how am I toexpress to you all my gratitude?'

'What are you going to do with yourself to-morrow?' said Sidonia. 'Inever go anywhere; but I have a few friends who are so kind as tocome sometimes to me. There are two or three persons dining with meto-morrow, whom you might like to meet. Will you do so?'

'I shall be most proud and pleased. '

'That's well. It is not here; it is in Carlton Gardens; at sunset. ' AndSidonia continued the letter which he was writing when Tancred entered. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

 _An Interesting Rencontre_

WHEN Tancred returned home, musing, from a visit to Sidonia, he foundthe following note:

'Lady Bertie and Bellair returns Lord Montacute his carriage with athousand compliments and thanks. She fears she greatly incommodedLord Montacute, but begs to assure him how very sensible she is of hisconsiderate courtesy. 

'Upper Brook Street, Wednesday. '

The handwriting was of that form of scripture which attracts; refinedyet energetic; full of character. Tancred recognised the titles ofBertie and Bellair as those of two not inconsiderable earldoms, nowcentred in the same individual. Lady Bertie and Bellair was herselfa lady of the high nobility; a daughter of the present Duke ofFitz-Aquitaine; the son of that duke who was the father-in-law of Lordde Mowbray, and whom Lady Firebrace, the present Lady Bardolf, andTadpole, had dexterously converted to conservatism by persuading himthat he was to be Sir Robert's Irish viceroy. Lady Bertie and Bellair, therefore, was first-cousin to Lady Joan Mountchesney, and her sister, who is still Lady Maud Fitz-Warene. Tancred was surprised that he neverrecollected to have met before one so distinguished and so beautiful. His conversation with Sidonia, however, had driven the little adventureof the morning from his memory, and now that it was thus recalled tohim, he did not dwell upon it. His being was absorbed in his paramountpurpose. The sympathy of Sidonia, so complete, and as instructive as itwas animating, was a sustaining power which we often need when we aremeditating great deeds. How often, when all seems dark, and hopeless, and spiritless, and tame, when slight obstacles figure in the cloudylandscape as Alps, and the rushing cataracts of our invention havesubsided into drizzle, a single phrase of a great man instantaneouslyflings sunshine on the intellectual landscape, and the habitualfeatures of power and beauty, over which we have so long mused in secretconfidence and love, resume all their energy and lustre. 

The haunting thought that occasionally, notwithstanding his strong will, would perplex the soul and agitate the heart of Tancred; the hauntingthought that, all this time, he was perhaps the dupe of boyishfantasies, was laid to-day. Sometimes he had felt, Why does no onesympathise with my views; why, though they treat them with conventionalrespect, is it clear that all I have addressed hold them to be absurd?My parents are pious and instructed; they are predisposed to vieweverything I say, or do, or think, with an even excessive favour. They think me moonstruck. Lord Eskdale is a perfect man of the world;proverbially shrewd, and celebrated for his judgment; he looks upon meas a raw boy, and believes that, if my father had kept me at Eton andsent me to Paris, I should by this time have exhausted my crudities. Thebishop is what the world calls a great scholar; he is a statesmanwho, aloof from faction, ought to be accustomed to take just andcomprehensive views; and a priest who ought to be under the immediateinfluence of the Holy Spirit. He says I am a visionary. All this mightwell be disheartening; but now comes one whom no circumstances impel tojudge my project with indulgence; who would, at the first glance, appearto have many prejudices arrayed against it, who knows more of the worldthan Lord Eskdale, and who appears to me to be more learned thanthe whole bench of bishops, and he welcomes my ideas, approves myconclusions, sympathises with my suggestions; develops, illustrates, enforces them; plainly intimates that I am only on the threshold ofinitiation, and would aid me to advance to the innermost mysteries. 

There was this night a great ball at Lady Bardolfs, in Belgrave Square. One should generally mention localities, because very often theyindicate character. Lady Bardolf lived next door to Mrs. Guy Flouncey. Both had risen in the world, though it requires some esoteric knowledgeto recognise the patrician par-venue; and both had finally settledthemselves down in the only quarter which Lady Bardolf thought worthy ofher new coronet, and Mrs. Guy Flouncey of her new visiting list. 

Lady Bardolf had given up the old family mansion of the Firebraces inHanover Square, at the same time that she had resigned their old title. Politics being dead, in consequence of the majority of 1841, who, aftera little kicking for the million, satisfactorily assured the ministerthat there was no vice in them. 

Lady Bardolf had chalked out a new career, and one of a still moreeminent and exciting character than her previous pursuit. Lady Bardolfwas one of those ladies--there are several--who entertain the curiousidea that they need only to be known in certain high quarters to beimmediately selected as the principal objects of court favour. LadyBardolf was always putting herself in the way of it; she never lost anopportunity; she never missed a drawing-room, contrived to be at all thecourt balls, plotted to be invited to a costume fête, and expended thetactics of a campaign to get asked to some grand château honoured byaugust presence. Still Her Majesty had not yet sent for Lady Bardolf. She was still very good friends with Lord Masque, for he had socialinfluence, and could assist her; but as for poor Tadpole, she had sadlyneglected him, his sphere being merely political, and that being nolonger interesting. The honest gentleman still occasionally buzzed abouther, slavering portentous stories about malcontent country gentlemen, mumbling Maynooth, and shaking his head at Young England. Tadpole waswont to say in confidence, that for his part he wished Sir Robert hadleft alone religion and commerce, and confined himself to finance, whichwas his forte as long as he had a majority to carry the projects whichhe found in the pigeon-holes of the Treasury, and which are always atthe service of every minister. 

Well, it was at Lady Bardolfs ball, close upon midnight, that Tancred, who had not long entered, and had not very far advanced in the crowdedsaloons, turning his head, recognised his heroine of the morning, his still more recent correspondent, Lady Bertie and Bellair. She wasspeaking to Lord Valentine. It was impossible to mistake her; rapid ashad been his former observation of her face, it was too remarkable tobe forgotten, though the captivating details were only the result of hispresent more advantageous inspection. A small head and large dark eyes, dark as her rich hair which was quite unadorned, a pale but delicatecomplexion, small pearly teeth, were charms that crowned a figure rathertoo much above the middle height, yet undulating and not without grace. Her countenance was calm without being grave; she smiled with her eyes. 

She was for a moment alone; she looked round, and recognised Tancred;she bowed to him with a beaming glance. Instantly he was at her side. 

'Our second meeting to-day, ' she said, in a low, sweet voice. 

'How came it that we never met before?' he replied. 

'I have just returned from Paris; the first time I have been out;and, had it not been for you, ' she added, 'I should not have been hereto-night. I think they would have put me in prison. '

'Lady Bardolf ought to be very much obliged to me, and so ought theworld. '

'I am, ' said Lady Bertie and Bellair. 

'That is worth everything else, ' said Tancred. 

'What a pretty carriage you have! I do not think I shall ever get intomine again. I am almost glad they have destroyed my chariot. I am sure Ishall never be able to drive in anything else now except a brougham. '

'Why did you not keep mine?'

'You are magnificent; too gorgeous and oriental for these cold climes. You shower your presents as if you were in the East, which LordValentine tells me you are about to visit. When do you leave us?'

'I think of going immediately. '

'Indeed!' said Lady Bertie and Bellair, and her countenance changed. There was a pause, and then she continued playfully, yet as it were halfin sadness, 'I almost wish you had not come to my rescue this morning. '

'And why?' 'Because I do not like to make agreeable acquaintances onlyto lose them. '

'I think that I am most to be pitied, ' said Tancred. 

'You are wearied of the world very soon. Before you can know us, youleave us. '

'I am not wearied of the world, for indeed, as you say, I know nothingof it. I am here by accident, as you were in the stoppage to-day. Itwill disperse, and then I shall get on. '

'Lord Valentine tells me that you are going to realise my dream ofdreams, that you are going to Jerusalem. '

'Ah!' said Tancred, kindling, 'you too have felt that want?'

'But I never can pardon myself for not having satisfied it, ' said LadyBertie and Bellair in a mournful tone, and looking in his face with herbeautiful dark eyes. 'It is the mistake of my life, and now can never beremedied. But I have no energy. I ought, as a girl, when they opposedmy purpose, to have taken up my palmer's staff, and never have restedcontent till I had gathered my shell on the strand of Joppa. '

'It is the right feeling' said Tancred. 'I am persuaded we ought all togo. '

'But we remain here, ' said the lady, in a tone of suppressed and elegantanguish; 'here, where we all complain of our hopeless lives; with nota thought beyond the passing hour, yet all bewailing its wearisome andinsipid moments. '

'Our lot is cast in a material age, ' said Tancred. 

'The spiritual can alone satisfy me, ' said Lady Bertie and Bellair. 

'Because you have a soul, ' continued Tancred, with animation, 'stillof a celestial hue. They are rare in the nineteenth century. Nobody nowthinks about heaven. They never dream of angels. All their existence isconcentrated in steamboats and railways. '

'You are right, ' said the lady, earnestly; 'and you fly from it. '

'I go for other purposes; I would say even higher ones, ' said Tancred. 

'I can understand you; your feelings are my own. Jerusalem has beenthe dream of my life. I have always been endeavouring to reach it, butsomehow or other I never got further than Paris. '

'And yet it is very easy now to get to Jerusalem, ' said Tancred; 'thegreat difficulty, as a very remarkable man said to me this morning, isto know what to do when you are there. '

'Who said that to you?' inquired Lady Bertie and Bellair, bending herhead. 

'It was the person I was going to call upon when I met you; Monsieur deSidonia. '

'Monsieur de Sidonia!' said the lady, with animation. 'Ah! you knowhim?'

'Not as much as I could wish. I saw him to-day for the first time. Mycousin, Lord Eskdale, gave me a letter of introduction to him, forhis advice and assistance about my journey. Sidonia has been a greattraveller. '

'There is no person I wish to know so much as M. De Sidonia, ' said LadyBertie and Bellair. 'He is a great friend of Lord Eskdale, I think?I must get Lord Eskdale, ' she added, musingly, 'to give me a littledinner, and ask M. De Sidonia to meet me. '

'He never goes anywhere; at least I have heard so, ' said Tancred. 

'He once used to do, and to give us great fêtes. I remember hearing ofthem before I was out. We must make him resume them. He is immenselyrich. '

'I dare say he may be, ' said Tancred. 'I wonder how a man with hisintellect and ideas can think of the accumulation of wealth. '

''Tis his destiny, ' said Lady Bertie and Bellair. 'He can no moredisembarrass himself of his hereditary millions than a dynasty of thecares of empire. I wonder if he will get the Great Northern. They talkedof nothing else at Paris. '

'Of what?' said Tancred. 

'Oh! let us talk of Jerusalem!' said Lady Bertie and Bellair. 'Ah, hereis Augustus! Let me make you and my husband acquainted. '

Tancred almost expected to see the moustached companion of themorning, but it was not so. Lord Bertie and Bellair was a tall, thin, distinguished, withered-looking young man, who thanked Tancred for hiscourtesy of the morning with a sort of gracious negligence, and, aftersome easy talk, asked Tancred to dine with them on the morrow. He wasengaged, but he promised to call on Lady Bertie and Bellair immediately, and see some drawings of the Holy Land. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

 _Lord Henry Sympathises_

PASSING through a marble antechamber, Tancred was ushered into anapartment half saloon and half-library; the choicely-bound volumes, which were not too numerous, were ranged on shelves inlaid in the walls, so that they ornamented, without diminishing, the apartment. These wallswere painted in encaustic, corresponding with the coved ceiling, whichwas richly adorned in the same fashion. A curtain of violet velvet, covering if necessary the large window, which looked upon a balcony fullof flowers, and the umbrageous Park; an Axminster carpet, manufacturedto harmonise both in colour and design with the rest of the chamber; aprofusion of luxurious seats; a large table of ivory marquetry, bearinga carved silver bell which once belonged to a pope; a Naiad, whosegolden urn served as an inkstand; some daggers that acted as papercutters, and some French books just arrived; a group of beautifulvases recently released from an Egyptian tomb and ranged on a tripod ofmalachite: the portrait of a statesman, and the bust of an emperor, and a sparkling fire, were all circumstances which made the room bothinteresting and comfortable in which Sidonia welcomed Tancred andintroduced him to a guest who had preceded him, Lord Henry Sydney. 

It was a name that touched Tancred, as it has all the youth of England, significant of a career that would rescue public life from that strangeunion of lax principles and contracted sympathies which now form thespecial and degrading features of British politics. It was borne by onewhose boyhood we have painted amid the fields and schools of Eton, andthe springtime of whose earliest youth we traced by the sedgy watersof the Cam. We left him on the threshold of public life; and, in fouryears, Lord Henry had created that reputation which now made him asource of hope and solace to millions of his countrymen. But they werefour years of labour which outweighed the usual exertions of public menin double that space. His regular attendance in the House of Commonsalone had given him as much Parliamentary experience as fell to thelot of many of those who had been first returned in 1837, and had been, therefore, twice as long in the House. He was not only a vigilant memberof public and private committees, but had succeeded in appointing andconducting several on topics which he esteemed of high importance. Addto this, that he took an habitual part in debate, and was a frequentand effective public writer; and we are furnished with an additionaltestimony, if that indeed were wanting, that there is no incentiveto exertion like the passion for a noble renown. Nor should it beforgotten, that, in all he accomplished, he had but one final purpose, and that the highest. The debate, the committee, the article in theJournal or the Review, the public meeting, the private research, thesewere all means to advance that which he had proposed as the object ofhis public life, namely, to elevate the condition of the people. 

Although there was no public man whose powers had more rapidly ripened, still it was interesting to observe that their maturity had beenfaithful to the healthy sympathies of his earlier years. The boy, whomwe have traced intent upon the revival of the pastimes of the people, had expanded into the statesman, who, in a profound and comprehensiveinvestigation of the elements of public wealth, had shown that a jadedpopulation is not a source of national prosperity. What had been apicturesque emotion had now become a statistical argument. The materialsystem that proposes the supply of constant toil to a people as theperfection of polity, had received a staggering blow from the exertionsof a young patrician, who announced his belief that labour had itsrights as well as its duties. What was excellent about Lord Henrywas, that he was not a mere philanthropist, satisfied to rouse publicattention to a great social evil, or instantly to suggest for it somecrude remedy. 

A scholar and a man of the world, learned in history and notinexperienced in human nature, he was sensible that we must look to theconstituent principles of society for the causes and the cures of greatnational disorders. He therefore went deeply into the question, norshrank from investigating how far those disorders were produced by theoperation or the desuetude of ancient institutions, and how far it mightbe necessary to call new influences into political existence fortheir remedy. Richly informed, still studious, fond of labour andindefatigable, of a gentle disposition though of an ardent mind, calmyet energetic, very open to conviction, but possessing an inflexibilityamounting even to obstinacy when his course was once taken, a ready andimproving speaker, an apt and attractive writer, affable and sincere, and with the undesigning faculty of making friends, Lord Henry seemedto possess all the qualities of a popular leader, if we add to themthe golden ones: high lineage, an engaging appearance, youth, and atemperament in which the reason had not been developed to the prejudiceof the heart. 

'And when do you start for the Holy Land?' said Lord Henry to Tancred, in a tone and with a countenance which proved his sympathy. 

'I have clutched my staff, but the caravan lingers. '

'I envy you!'

'Why do you not go?'

Lord Henry slightly shrugged his shoulders, and said, 'It is too late. Ihave begun my work and I cannot leave it. '

'If a Parliamentary career could save this country, ' said Tancred, 'Iam sure you would be a public benefactor. I have observed what you andMr. Con-ingsby and some of your friends have done and said, with greatinterest. But Parliament seems to me to be the very place which a manof action should avoid. A Parliamentary career, that old superstition ofthe eighteenth century, was important when there were no other sourcesof power and fame. An aristocracy at the head of a people whom they hadplundered of their means of education, required some cultivated tribunalwhose sympathy might stimulate their intelligence and satisfy theirvanity. Parliament was never so great as when they debated with closeddoors. The public opinion, of which they never dreamed, has supersededthe rhetorical club of our great-grandfathers. They know this wellenough, and try to maintain their unnecessary position by affectingthe character of men of business, but amateur men of business are verycostly conveniences. In this age it is not Parliament that does the realwork. It does not govern Ireland, for example. If the manufacturers wantto change a tariff, they form a commercial league, and they effect theirpurpose. It is the same with the abolition of slavery, and all our greatrevolutions. Parliament has become as really insignificant as for twocenturies it has kept the monarch. O'Connell has taken a good share ofits power; Cobden has taken another; and I am inclined to believe, 'said Tancred, 'though I care little about it, that, if our order hadany spirit or prescience, they would put themselves at the head of thepeople, and take the rest. '

'Coningsby dines here to-day, ' said Sidonia, who, unobserved, hadwatched Tancred as he spoke, with a searching glance. 

'Notwithstanding what you say, ' said Lord Henry, smiling, 'I wish Icould induce you to remain and help us. You would be a great ally. '

'I go to a land, ' said Tancred, 'that has never been blessed by thatfatal drollery called a representative government, though Omniscienceonce deigned to trace out the polity which should rule it. '

At this moment the servant announced Lord and Lady Marney. 

Political sympathy had created a close intimacy between Lord Marneyand Coningsby. They were necessary to each other. They were both menentirely devoted to public affairs, and sitting in different Houses, both young, and both masters of fortunes of the first class, they wereindicated as individuals who hereafter might take a lead, and, farfrom clashing, would co-operate with each other. Through Coningsbythe Marneys had become acquainted with Sidonia, who liked them both, particularly Sybil. Although received by society with open arms, especially by the high nobility, who affected to look upon Sybil quiteas one of themselves, Lady Marney, notwithstanding the homage thateverywhere awaited her, had already shown a disposition to retire asmuch as possible within the precinct of a chosen circle. 

This was her second season, and Sybil ventured to think that she hadmade, in the general gaieties of her first, a sufficient oblation tothe genius of fashion, and the immediate requirements of her socialposition. Her life was faithful to its first impulse. Devoted to theimprovement of the condition of the people, she was the moving springof the charitable development of this great city. Her house, without anypedantic effort, had become the focus of a refined society, who, thoughobliged to show themselves for the moment in the great carnival, wear their masks, blow their trumpets, and pelt the multitude withsugarplums, were glad to find a place where they could at all timesdivest themselves of their mummery, and return to their accustomed garbof propriety and good taste. 

Sybil, too, felt alone in the world. Without a relation, without anacquaintance of early and other days, she clung to her husband with adevotion which was peculiar as well as profound. Egremont was to hermore than a husband and a lover; he was her only friend; it seemed toSybil that he could be her only friend. The disposition of Lord Marneywas not opposed to the habits of his wife. Men, when they are married, often shrink from the glare and bustle of those social multitudes whichare entered by bachelors with the excitement of knights-errant in afairy wilderness, because they are supposed to be rife with adventures, and, perhaps, fruitful of a heroine. The adventure sometimes turns outto be a catastrophe, and the heroine a copy instead of an original; butlet that pass. 

Lord Marney liked to be surrounded by those who sympathised with hispursuit; and his pursuit was politics, and politics on a great scale. The commonplace career of official distinction was at his command. Agreat peer, with abilities and ambition, a good speaker, supposed to bea Conservative, he might soon have found his way into the cabinet, and, like the rest, have assisted in registering the decrees of onetoo powerful individual. But Lord Marney had been taught to think ata period of life when he little dreamed of the responsibility whichfortune had in store for him. 

The change in his position had not altered the conclusions at whichhe had previously arrived. He held that the state of England, notwithstanding the superficies of a material prosperity, was one ofimpending doom, unless it were timely arrested by those who were in highplaces. A man of fine mind rather than of brilliant talents, Lord Marneyfound, in the more vivid and impassioned intelligence of Coningsby, thedirecting sympathy which he required. Tadpole looked upon his lordshipas little short of insane. 'Do you see that man?' he would say as LordMarney rode by. 'He might be Privy Seal, and he throws it all away forthe nonsense of Young England!'

Mrs. Coningsby entered the room almost on the footsteps of the Marneys. 

'I am in despair about Harry, ' she said, as she gave a finger toSidonia, 'but he told me not to wait for him later than eight. I supposehe is kept at the House. Do you know anything of him, Lord Henry?'

'You may make yourself quite easy about him, ' said Lord Henry. 'Hepromised Vavasour to support a motion which he has to-day, and perhapsspeak on it. I ought to be there too, but Charles Buller told me therewould certainly be no division and so I ventured to pair off with him. '

'He will come with Vavasour, ' said Sidonia, 'who makes up our party. They will be here before we have seated ourselves. '

The gentlemen had exchanged the usual inquiry, whether there wasanything new to-day, without waiting for the answer. Sidonia introducedTancred and Lord Marney. 

'And what have you been doing to-day?' said Edith to Sybil, by whoseside she had seated herself. 'Lady Bardolf did nothing last night butgronder me, because you never go to her parties. In vain I said that youlooked upon her as the most odious of her sex, and her balls the pest ofsociety. She was not in the least satisfied. And how is Gerard?'

'Why, we really have been very uneasy about him, ' said Lady Marney, 'butthe last bulletin, ' she added, with a smile, 'announces a tooth. '

'Next year you must give him a pony, and let him ride with my Harry;I mean my little Harry, Harry of Monmouth I call him; he is so like aportrait Mr. Coningsby has of his grandfather, the same debauched look. '

'Your dinner is served, sir!'

Sidonia offered his hand to Lady Marney; Edith was attended by Tancred. A door at the end of the room opened into a marble corridor, which ledto the dining-room, decorated in the same style as the library. It wasa suite of apartments which Sidonia used for an intimate circle like thepresent. 

CHAPTER XX. 

 _A Modern Troubadour_

THEY seated themselves at a round table, on which everything seemedbrilliant and sparkling; nothing heavy, nothing oppressive. Therewas scarcely anything that Sidonia disliked so much as a small table, groaning, as it is aptly termed, with plate. He shrunk from great massesof gold and silver; gigantic groups, colossal shields, and mobs oftankards and flagons; and never used them except on great occasions, when the banquet assumes an Egyptian character, and becomes too vastfor refinement. At present, the dinner was served on Sèvres porcelain ofRose du Barri, raised on airy golden stands of arabesque workmanship;a mule bore your panniers of salt, or a sea-nymph proffered it you ona shell just fresh from the ocean, or you found it in a bird's nest; byevery guest a different pattern. In the centre of the table, mounted ona pedestal, was a group of pages in Dresden china. Nothing could bemore gay than their bright cloaks and flowing plumes, more elaboratelyexquisite than their laced shirts and rosettes, or more fantasticallysaucy than their pretty affected faces, as each, with extended arm, helda light to a guest. The room was otherwise illumined from the sides. 

The guests had scarcely seated themselves when the two absent onesarrived. 

'Well, you did not divide, Vavasour, ' said Lord Henry. 

'Did I not?' said Vavasour; 'and nearly beat the Government. You are apretty fellow!'

'I was paired. '

'With some one who could not stay. Your brother, Mrs. Coningsby, behavedlike a man, sacrificed his dinner, and made a capital speech. '

'Oh! Oswald, did he speak? Did you speak, Harry?'

'No; I voted. There was too much speaking as it was; if Vavasour had notreplied, I believe we should have won. '

'But then, my dear fellow, think of my points; think how they laidthemselves open!'

'A majority is always the best repartee, ' said Coningsby. 

'I have been talking with Montacute, ' whispered Lord Henry to Coningsby, who was seated next to him. 'Wonderful fellow! You can conceive nothingricher! Very wild, but all the right ideas; exaggerated of course. Youmust get hold of him after dinner. '

'But they say he is going to Jerusalem. '

'But he will return. '

'I do not know that; even Napoleon regretted that he had ever re-crossedthe Mediterranean. The East is a career. '

Mr. Vavasour was a social favourite; a poet and a real poet, anda troubadour, as well as a member of Parliament; travelled, sweet-tempered, and good-hearted; amusing and clever. With catholicsympathies and an eclectic turn of mind, Mr. Vavasour saw something goodin everybody and everything, which is certainly amiable, and perhapsjust, but disqualifies a man in some degree for the business of life, which requires for its conduct a certain degree of prejudice. Mr. Vavasour's breakfasts were renowned. Whatever your creed, class, orcountry, one might almost add your character, you were a welcome guestat his matutinal meal, provided you were celebrated. That qualification, however, was rigidly enforced. 

It not rarely happened that never were men more incongruously grouped. Individuals met at his hospitable house who had never met before, butwho for years had been cherishing in solitude mutual detestation, withall the irritable exaggeration of the literary character. Vavasour likedto be the Amphitryon of a cluster of personal enemies. He prided himselfon figuring as the social medium by which rival reputations becameacquainted, and paid each other in his presence the compliments whichveiled their ineffable disgust. All this was very well at his rooms inthe Albany, and only funny; but when he collected his menageries at hisancestral hall in a distant county, the sport sometimes became tragic. 

A real philosopher, alike from his genial disposition and from theinfluence of his rich and various information, Vavasour moved amidthe strife, sympathising with every one; and perhaps, after all, thephilanthropy which was his boast was not untinged by a dash of humour, of which rare and charming quality he possessed no inconsiderableportion. Vavasour liked to know everybody who was known, and to seeeverything which ought to be seen. He also was of opinion that everybodywho was known ought to know him; and that the spectacle, howeversplendid or exciting, was not quite perfect without his presence. 

His life was a gyration of energetic curiosity; an insatiable whirl ofsocial celebrity. There was not a congregation of sages and philosophersin any part of Europe which he did not attend as a brother. He waspresent at the camp of Kalisch in his yeomanry uniform, and assisted atthe festivals of Barcelona in an Andalusian jacket. He was everywhere, and at everything; he had gone down in a diving-bell and gone up in aballoon. As for his acquaintances, he was welcomed in every land; hisuniversal sympathies seemed omnipotent. Emperor and king, jacobin andcarbonaro, alike cherished him. He was the steward of Polish balls andthe vindicator of Russian humanity; he dined with Louis Philippe, andgave dinners to Louis Blanc. 

This was a dinner of which the guests came to partake. Though theydelighted in each other's society, their meetings were not so rare thatthey need sacrifice the elegant pleasures of a refined meal for theopportunity of conversation. They let that take its chance, and ateand drank without affectation. Nothing so rare as a female dinner wherepeople eat, and few things more delightful. On the present occasion sometime elapsed, while the admirable performances of Sidonia's cook werediscussed, with little interruption; a burst now and then from theringing voice of Mrs. Coningsby crossing a lance with her habitualopponent, Mr. Vavasour, who, however, generally withdrew from theskirmish when a fresh dish was handed to him. 

At length, the second course being served, Mrs. Coningsby said, 'I thinkyou have all eaten enough: I have a piece of information for you. Thereis going to be a costume ball at the Palace. '

This announcement produced a number of simultaneous remarks andexclamations. 'When was it to be? What was it to be? An age, or acountry; or an olio of all ages and all countries?'

'An age is a masquerade, ' said Sidonia. 'The more contracted the circle, the more perfect the illusion. '

'Oh, no!' said Vavasour, shaking his head. 'An age is the thing; it is amuch higher thing. What can be finer than to represent the spirit of anage?'

'And Mr. Vavasour to perform the principal part, ' said Mrs. Coningsby. 'I know exactly what he means. He wants to dance the polka as Petrarch, and find a Laura in every partner. '

'You have no poetical feeling, ' said Mr. Vavasour, waving his hand. 'Ihave often told you so. '

'You will easily find Lauras, Mr. Vavasour, if you often write suchbeautiful verses as I have been reading to-day, ' said Lady Marney. 

'You, on the contrary, ' said Mr. Vavasour, bowing, 'have a great deal ofpoetic feeling, Lady Marney; I have always said so. '

'But give us your news, Edith, ' said Coningsby. 'Imagine our suspense, when it is a question, whether we are all to look picturesque orquizzical. '

'Ah, you want to know whether you can go as Cardinal Mazarin, or theDuke of Ripperda, Harry. I know exactly what you all are now thinkingof; whether you will draw the prize in the forthcoming lottery, and getexactly the epoch and the character which suit you. Is it not so, LordMontacute? Would not you like to practise a little with your crusados atthe Queen's ball before you go to the Holy Sepulchre?'

'I would rather hear your description of it, ' said Tancred. 

'Lord Henry, I see, is half inclined to be your companion as a Red-crossKnight, ' continued Edith. 'As for Lady Marney, she is the successorof Mrs. Fry, and would wish, I am sure, to go to the ball as herrepresentative. '

'And pray what are you thinking of being?' said Mr. Vavasour. 'Weshould like very much to be favoured with Mrs. Coningsby's ideal ofherself. '

'Mrs. Coningsby leaves the ideal to poets. She is quite satisfied toremain what she is, and it is her intention to do so, though she meansto go to Her Majesty's ball. '

'I see that you are in the secret, ' said Lord Marney. 

'If I could only keep secrets, I might turn out something. ' said Mrs. Coningsby. 'I am the depositary of so much that is occult-joys, sorrows, plots, and scrapes; but I always tell Harry, and he always betrays me. Well, you must guess a little. Lady Marney begins. '

'Well, we were at one at Turin, ' said Lady Marney, 'and it was oriental, Lalla Rookh. Are you to be a sultana?'

Mrs. Coningsby shook her head. 

'Come, Edith, ' said her husband; 'if you know, which I doubt----'

'Oh! you doubt----'

'Valentine told me yesterday, ' said Mr. Vavasour, in a mock peremptorytone, 'that there would not be a ball. '

'And Lord Valentine told me yesterday that there would be a ball, andwhat the ball would be; and what is more, I have fixed on my dress, 'said Mrs. Coningsby. 

'Such a rapid decision proves that much antiquarian research is notnecessary, ' said Sidonia. 'Your period is modern. '

'Ah!' said Edith, looking at Sidonia, 'he always finds me out. Well, Mr. Vavasour, you will not be able to crown yourself with a laurel wreath, for the gentlemen will wear wigs. '

'Louis Quatorze?' said her husband. 'Peel as Louvois. '

'No, Sir Robert would be content with nothing less than _LeGrand Colbert, rue Richelieu, No. 75, grand magasin de nouveautéstrès-anciennes: prix fixé, avec quelques rabais. _'

'A description of Conservatism, ' said Coningsby. 

The secret was soon revealed: every one had a conjecture and acommentary: gentlemen in wigs, and ladies powdered, patched, and sacked. Vavasour pondered somewhat dolefully on the anti-poetic spirit of theage; Coningsby hailed him as the author of Leonidas. 

'And you, I suppose, will figure as one of the "boys" arrayed againstthe great Sir Robert?' said Mr. Vavasour, with a countenance of mockveneration for that eminent personage. 

'The "boys" beat him at last, ' said Coningsby; and then, with a rapidprecision and a richness of colouring which were peculiar to him, hethrew out a sketch which placed the period before them; and theybegan to tear it to tatters, select the incidents, and apportion thecharacters. 

Two things which are necessary to a perfect dinner are noiselessattendants, and a precision in serving the various dishes of eachcourse, so that they may all be placed upon the table at the samemoment. A deficiency in these respects produces that bustle and delaywhich distract many an agreeable conversation and spoil many a pleasantdish. These two excellent characteristics were never wanting at thedinners of Sidonia. At no house was there less parade. The appearanceof the table changed as if by the waving of a wand, and silently as adream. And at this moment, the dessert being arranged, fruits and theirbeautiful companions, flowers, reposed in alabaster baskets raised onsilver stands of filigree work. 

There was half an hour of merry talk, graceful and gay: a good story, a _bon-mot_ fresh from the mint, some raillery like summer lightning, vivid but not scorching. 

'And now, ' said Edith, as the ladies rose to return to the library, 'and now we leave you to Maynooth. '

'By-the-bye, what do they say to it in your House, Lord Marney?'inquired Henry Sydney, filling his glass. 

'It will go down, ' said Lord Marney. 'A strong dose for some, but theyare used to potent potions. '

'The bishops, they say, have not made up their minds. '

'Fancy bishops not having made up their minds, ' exclaimed Tancred: 'theonly persons who ought never to doubt. '

'Except when they are offered a bishopric, ' said Lord Marney. 

'Why I like this Maynooth project, ' said Tancred, 'though otherwise itlittle interests me, is, that all the shopkeepers are against it. '

'Don't tell that to the minister, ' said Coningsby, 'or he will give upthe measure. '

'Well, that is the very reason, ' said Vavasour, 'why, though otherwiseinclined to the grant, I hesitate as to my vote. I have the highestopinion of the shopkeepers; I sympathise even with their prejudices. They are the class of the age; they represent its order, its decency, its industry. '

'And you represent them, ' said Coningsby. 'Vavasour is the quintessenceof order, decency, and industry. '

'You may jest, ' said Vavasour, shaking his head with a spice of solemndrollery; 'but public opinion must and ought to be respected, right orwrong. '

'What do you mean by public opinion?' said Tancred. 

'The opinion of the reflecting majority, ' said Vavasour. 

'Those who don't read your poems, ' said Coningsby. 

'Boy, boy!' said Vavasour, who could endure raillery from one hehad been at college with, but who was not over-pleased at Coningsbyselecting the present occasion to claim his franchise, when a new manwas present like Lord Montacute, on whom Vavasour naturally wished toproduce an impression. It must be owned that it was not, as they say, very good taste in the husband of Edith, but prosperity had developed inConingsby a native vein of sauciness which it required all the solemnityof the senate to repress. Indeed, even there, upon the benches, witha grave face, he often indulged in quips and cranks that convulsedhis neighbouring audience, who often, amid the long dreary nights ofstatistical imposture, sought refuge in his gay sarcasms, his airypersonalities, and happy quotations. 

'I do not see how there can be opinion without thought, ' said Tancred;'and I do not believe the public ever think. How can they? They have notime. Certainly we live at present under the empire of general ideas, which are extremely powerful. But the public have not invented thoseideas. They have adopted them from convenience. No one has confidence inhimself; on the contrary, every one has a mean idea of his own strengthand has no reliance on his own judgment. Men obey a general impulse, they bow before an external necessity, whether for resistance or action. Individuality is dead; there is a want of inward and personal energyin man; and that is what people feel and mean when they go aboutcomplaining there is no faith. '

'You would hold, then, ' said Henry Sydney, 'that the progress of publicliberty marches with the decay of personal greatness?'

'It would seem so. '

'But the majority will always prefer public liberty to personalgreatness, ' said Lord Marney. 

'But, without personal greatness, you never would have had publicliberty, ' said Coningsby. 

'After all, it is civilisation that you are kicking against, ' saidVavasour. 

'I do not understand what you mean by civilisation, ' said Tancred. 

'The progressive development of the faculties of man, ' said Vavasour. 

'Yes, but what is progressive development?' said Sidonia; 'and what arethe faculties of man? If development be progressive, how do youaccount for the state of Italy? One will tell you it is superstition, indulgences, and the Lady of Loretto; yet three centuries ago, when allthese influences were much more powerful, Italy was the soul of Europe. The less prejudiced, a Puseyite for example, like our friend Vavasour, will assure us that the state of Italy has nothing to do with thespirit of its religion, but that it is entirely an affair of commerce; arevolution of commerce has convulsed its destinies. I cannot forget thatthe world was once conquered by Italians who had no commerce. Has thedevelopment of Western Asia been progressive? It is a land of tombs andruins. Is China progressive, the most ancient and numerous of existingsocieties? Is Europe itself progressive? Is Spain a tithe as great asshe was? Is Germany as great as when she invented printing; as she wasunder the rule of Charles the Fifth? France herself laments her relativeinferiority to the past. But England flourishes. Is it what youcall civilisation that makes England flourish? Is it the universaldevelopment of the faculties of man that has rendered an island, almostunknown to the ancients, the arbiter of the world? Clearly not. It isher inhabitants that have done this; it is an affair of race. A Saxonrace, protected by an insular position, has stamped its diligent andmethodic character on the century. And when a superior race, witha superior idea to work and order, advances, its state will beprogressive, and we shall, perhaps, follow the example of the desolatecountries. All is race; there is no other truth. '

'Because it includes all others?' said Lord Henry. 

'You have said it. '

'As for Vavasour's definition of civilisation, ' said Coningsby, 'civilisation was more advanced in ancient than modern times; then whatbecomes of the progressive principle? Look at the great centuries of theRoman Empire! You had two hundred millions of human beings governed bya jurisprudence so philosophical that we have been obliged to adoptits laws, and living in perpetual peace. The means of communication, of which we now make such a boast, were far more vast and extensive inthose days. What were the Great Western and the London and Birmingham tothe Appian and Flaminian roads? After two thousand five hundred years, parts of these are still used. A man under the Antonines might travelfrom Paris to Antioch with as much ease and security as we go fromLondon to York. As for free trade, there never was a really unshackledcommerce except in the days when the whole of the Mediterranean coastsbelonged to one power. What a chatter there is now about the towns, andhow their development is cited as the peculiarity of the age, and thegreat security for public improvement. Why, the Roman Empire was theempire of great cities. Man was then essentially municipal. '

'What an empire!' said Sidonia. 'All the superior races in all thesuperior climes. '

'But how does all this accord with your and Coningsby's favourite theoryof the influence of individual character?' said Vavasour to Sidonia;'which I hold, by-the-bye, ' he added rather pompously, 'to be entirelyfutile. '

'What is individual character but the personification of race, ' saidSidonia, 'its perfection and choice exemplar? Instead of being aninconsistency, the belief in the influence of the individual is acorollary of the original proposition. '

'I look upon a belief in the influence of individual character as abarbarous superstition, ' said Vavasour. 

'Vavasour believes that there would be no heroes if there were apolice, ' said Coningsby; 'but I believe that civilisation is only fatalto minstrels, and that is the reason now we have no poets. '

'How do you account for the Polish failure in 1831?' said Lord Marney. 'They had a capital army, they were backed by the population, but theyfailed. They had everything but a man. '

'Why were the Whigs smashed in 1834, ' said Coningsby, 'but because theyhad not a man?'

'What is the real explanation of the state of Mexico?' said Sidonia. 'Ithas not a man. '

'So much for progress since the days of Charles the Fifth, ' said HenrySydney. 'The Spaniards then conquered Mexico, and now they cannotgovern it. '

'So much for race, ' said Vavasour. 'The race is the same; why are notthe results the same?'

'Because it is worn out, ' said Sidonia. 'Why do not the Ethiopians buildanother Thebes, or excavate the colossal temples of the cataracts? Thedecay of a race is an inevitable necessity, unless it lives in desertsand never mixes its blood. '

CHAPTER XXI. 

 _Sweet Sympathy_

I AM sorry, my dear mother, that I cannot accompany you; but I must godown to my yacht this morning, and on my return from Greenwich I have anengagement. '

This was said about a week after the dinner at Sidonia's, by LordMontacute to the duchess. 'That terrible yacht!' thought the duchess. Her Grace, a year ago, had she been aware of it, would have deemedTancred's engagement as fearful an affair. The idea that her son shouldhave called every day for a week on a married lady, beautiful andattractive, would have filled her with alarm amounting almost to horror. Yet such was the innocent case. It might at the first glance seemdifficult to reconcile the rival charms of the Basilisk and Lady Bertieand Bellair, and to understand how Tancred could be so interested in thepreparations for a voyage which was to bear him from the individual inwhose society he found a daily gratification. But the truth is, thatLady Bertie and Bellair was the only person who sympathised with hisadventure. 

She listened with the liveliest concern to his account of all hisprogress; she even made many admirable suggestions, for Lady Bertie andBellair had been a frequent visitor at Cowes, and was quite initiatedin the mysteries of the dilettante service of the Yacht Club. She wasa capital sailor; at least she always told Tancred so. But this was notthe chief source of sympathy, or the principal bond of union, betweenthem. It was not the voyage, so much as the object of the voyage, thattouched all the passion of Lady Bertie and Bellair. Her heart was atJerusalem. The sacred city was the dream of her life; and, amid thedissipations of May Fair and the distractions of Belgravia, she had infact all this time only been thinking of Jehoshaphat and Sion. Strangecoincidence of sentiment--strange and sweet!

The enamoured Montacute hung over her with pious rapture, as theyexamined together Mr. Roberts's Syrian drawings, and she alike charmedand astonished him by her familiarity with every locality and eachdetail. She looked like a beautiful prophetess as she dilated withsolemn enthusiasm on the sacred scene. Tancred called on her every day, because when he called the first time he had announced his immediatedeparture, and so had been authorised to promise that he would pay hisrespects to her every day till he went. It was calculated that by thesemeans, that is to say three or four visits, they might perhaps travelthrough Mr. Roberts's views together before he left England, which wouldfacilitate their correspondence, for Tancred had engaged to write to theonly person in the world worthy of receiving his letters. But, thoughseparated, Lady Bertie and Bellair would be with him in spirit; andonce she sighed and seemed to murmur that if his voyage could only bepostponed awhile, she might in a manner become his fellow-pilgrim, forLord Bertie, a great sportsman, had a desire to kill antelopes, and, wearied with the monotonous slaughter of English preserves, tired evenof the eternal moors, had vague thoughts of seeking new sources ofexcitement amid the snipes of the Grecian marshes, and the deer and wildboars of the desert and the Syrian hills. 

While his captain was repeating his inquiries for instructions on thedeck of the Basilisk at Greenwich, moored off the Trafalgar Hotel, Tancred fell into reveries of female pilgrims kneeling at the HolySepulchre by his side; then started, gave a hurried reply, and droveback quickly to town, to pass the remainder of the morning in BrookStreet. 

The two or three days had expanded into two or three weeks, and Tancredcontinued to call daily on Lady Bertie and Bellair, to say farewell. Itwas not wonderful: she was the only person in London who understood him;so she delicately intimated, so he profoundly felt. They had the sameideas; they must have the same idiosyncrasy. The lady asked with a sighwhy they had not met before; Tancred found some solace in the thoughtthat they had at least become acquainted. There was something about thislady very interesting besides her beauty, her bright intelligence, andher seraphic thoughts. She was evidently the creature of impulse; toa certain degree perhaps the victim of her imagination. She seemedmisplaced in life. The tone of the century hardly suited her refined andromantic spirit. Her ethereal nature seemed to shrink from the coarsereality which invades in our days even the boudoirs of May Fair. 

There was something in her appearance and the temper of her being whichrebuked the material, sordid, calculating genius of our reign of Mammon. 

Her presence in this world was a triumphant vindication of the claimsof beauty and of sentiment. It was evident that she was not happy;for, though her fair brow always lighted up when she met the glanceof Tancred, it was impossible not to observe that she was sometimesstrangely depressed, often anxious and excited, frequently absorbed inreverie. Yet her vivid intelligence, the clearness and precision of herthought and fancy, never faltered. In the unknown yet painful contest, the intellectual always triumphed. It was impossible to deny that shewas a woman of great ability. 

Nor could it for a moment be imagined that these fitful moods weremerely the routine intimations that her domestic hearth was not as happyas it deserved to be. On the contrary, Lord and Lady Bertie and Bellairwere the very best friends; she always spoke of her husband withinterest and kindness; they were much together, and there evidentlyexisted between them mutual confidence. His lordship's heart, indeed, was not at Jerusalem; and perhaps this want of sympathy on a subjectof such rare and absorbing interest might account for the occasionalmusings of his wife, taking refuge in her own solitary and devoutlypassionate soul. But this deficiency on the part of his lordship couldscarcely be alleged against him as a very heinous fault; it is far fromusual to find a British noble who on such a topic entertains the notionsand sentiments of Lord Montacute; almost as rare to find a Britishpeeress who could respond to them with the same fervour and facilityas the beautiful Lady Bertie and Bellair. The life of a British peer ismainly regulated by Arabian laws and Syrian customs at this moment;but, while he sabbatically abstains from the debate or the rubber, or regulates the quarterly performance of his judicial duties in hisprovince by the advent of the sacred festivals, he thinks little of theland and the race who, under the immediate superintendence of the Deity, have by their sublime legislation established the principle of periodicrest to man, or by their deeds and their dogmas, commemorated by theirholy anniversaries, have elevated the condition and softened the lot ofevery nation except their own. 

'And how does Tancred get on?' asked Lord Eskdale one morning of theDuchess of Bellamont, with a dry smile. 'I understand that, instead ofgoing to Jerusalem, he is going to give us a fish dinner. '

The Duchess of Bellamont had made the acquaintance of Lady Bertie andBellair, and was delighted with her, although her Grace had been toldthat Lord Montacute called upon her every day. The proud, intenselyproper, and highly prejudiced Duchess of Bellamont took the mostcharitable view of this sudden and fervent friendship. A female friend, who talked about Jerusalem, but kept her son in London, was in thepresent estimation of the duchess a real treasure, the most interestingand admirable of her sex. Their intimacy was satisfactorily accountedfor by the invaluable information which she imparted to Tancred; whathe was to see, do, eat, drink; how he was to avoid being poisoned andassassinated, escape fatal fevers, regularly attend the service ofthe Church of England in countries where there were no churches, andconverse in languages of which he had no knowledge. He could not have abetter counsellor than Lady Bertie, who had herself travelled, at leastto the Faubourg St. Honoré, and, as Horace Walpole says, after Calaisnothing astonishes. Certainly Lady Bertie had not been herself toJerusalem, but she had read about it, and every other place. The duchesswas delighted that Tancred had a companion who interested him. Withall the impulse of her sanguine temperament, she had already accustomedherself to look upon the long-dreaded yacht as a toy, and rather anamusing one, and was daily more convinced of the prescient shrewdness ofher cousin, Lord Eskdale. 

Tancred was going to give them a fish dinner! A what? A sort ofbanquet which might have served for the marriage feast of Neptune andAmphitrite, and be commemorated by a constellation; and which oughtto have been administered by the Nereids and the Naiads; terrines ofturtle, pools of water _souchée_, flounders of every hue, and eels inevery shape, cutlets of salmon, salmis of carp, ortolans represented bywhitebait, and huge roasts carved out of the sturgeon. The appetite isdistracted by the variety of objects, and tantalised by the restlessnessof perpetual solicitation; not a moment of repose, no pause forenjoyment; eventually, a feeling of satiety, without satisfaction, andof repletion without sustenance; till, at night, gradually recoveringfrom the whirl of the anomalous repast, famished yet incapable offlavour, the tortured memory can only recall with an effort, that it hasdined off pink champagne and brown bread and butter!

What a ceremony to be presided over by Tancred of Montacute; who, ifhe deigned to dine at all, ought to have dined at no less a round tablethan that of King Arthur. What a consummation of a sublime project!What a catastrophe of a spiritual career! A Greenwich party and a tavernbill!

All the world now is philosophical, and therefore they can account forthis disaster. Without doubt we are the creatures of circumstances; and, if circumstances take the shape of a charming woman, who insists uponsailing in your yacht, which happens to to be at Blackwall or Greenwich, it is not easy to discover how the inevitable consequences can beavoided. It would hardly do, off the Nore, to present your mistresswith a sea-pie, or abruptly remind your farewell friends and sorrowingparents of their impending loss by suddenly serving up soup hermeticallysealed, and roasting the embalmed joint, which ought only to have smokedamid the ruins of Thebes or by the cataracts of Nubia. 

There are, however, two sides of every picture; a party may be pleasant, and even a fish dinner not merely a whirl of dishes and a clash ofplates. The guests may be not too numerous, and well assorted; theattendance not too devoted, yet regardful; the weather may be charming, which is a great thing, and the giver of the dinner may be charmed, andthat is everything. 

The party to see the Basilisk was not only the most agreeable of theseason, but the most agreeable ever known. They all said so when theycame back. Mr. Vavasour, who was there, went to all his evening parties;to the assembly by the wife of a minister in Carlton Terrace; to a routby the wife of the leader of opposition in Whitehall; to a literarysoirée in Westminster, and a brace of balls in Portman and BelgraveSquares; and told them all that they were none of them to be comparedto the party of the morning, to which, it must be owned, he had greatlycontributed by his good humour and merry wit. Mrs. Coningsby declared toevery one that, if Lord Monta-cute would take her, she was quite readyto go to Jerusalem; such a perfect vessel was the Basilisk, and such anadmirable sailor was Mrs. Coningsby, which, considering that the riverwas like a mill-pond, according to Tancred's captain, or like a mirror, according to Lady Bertie and Bellair, was not surprising. The dukeprotested that he was quite glad that Mon-tacute had taken to yachting, it seemed to agree with him so well; and spoke of his son's futuremovements as if there were no such place as Palestine in the world. Thesanguine duchess dreamed of Cowes regattas, and resolved to agree toany arrangement to meet her son's fancy, provided he would stay at home, which she convinced herself he had now resolved to do. 

'Our cousin is so wise, ' she said to her husband, as they werereturning. 'What could the bishop mean by saying that Tancred was avisionary? I agree with you, George, there is no counsellor like a manof the world. '

'I wish M. De Sidonia had come, ' said Lady Bertie and Bellair, gazingfrom the window of the Trafalgar on the moonlit river with an expressionof abstraction, and speaking in a tone almost of melancholy. 

'I also wish it, since you do, ' said Tancred. 'But they say he goesnowhere. It was almost presumptuous in me to ask him, yet I did sobecause you wished it. '

'I never shall know him, ' said Lady Bertie and Bellair, with somevexation. 

'He interests you, ' said Tancred, a little piqued. 

'I had so many things to say to him, ' said her ladyship. 

'Indeed!' said Tancred; and then he continued, 'I offered him everyinducement to come, for I told him it was to meet you; but perhaps ifhe had known that you had so many things to say to him, he might haverelented. '

'So many things! Oh! yes. You know he has been a great traveller; he hasbeen everywhere; he has been at Jerusalem. '

'Fortunate man!' exclaimed Tancred, half to himself. 'Would I werethere!'

'Would we were there, you mean, ' said Lady Bertie, in a tone ofexquisite melody, and looking at Tancred with her rich, charged eyes. 

His heart trembled; he was about to give utterance to some wild words, but they died upon his lips. Two great convictions shared his being:the absolute necessity of at once commencing his pilgrimage, and thepersuasion that life, without the constant presence of this sympathisingcompanion, must be intolerable. What was to be done? In his longreveries, where he had brooded over so many thoughts, some only of whichhe had as yet expressed to mortal ear, Tancred had calculated, as hebelieved, every combination of obstacle which his projects might haveto encounter; but one, it now seemed, he had entirely omitted, theinfluence of woman. Why was he here? Why was he not away? Why had henot departed? The reflection was intolerable; it seemed to him evendisgraceful. The being who would be content with nothing less thancommuning with celestial powers in sacred climes, standing at a tavernwindow gazing on the moonlit mudbanks of the barbarous Thames, a riverwhich neither angel nor prophet had ever visited! Before him, softenedby the hour, was the Isle of Dogs! The Isle of Dogs! It should at leastbe Cyprus!

The carriages were announced; Lady Bertie and Bellair placed her arm inhis. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

 _The Crusader Receives a Shock_

TANCRED passed a night of great disquiet. His mind was agitated, hispurposes indefinite; his confidence in himself seemed to falter. Wherewas that strong will that had always sustained him? that faculty ofinstant decision which had given such vigour to his imaginary deeds?A shadowy haze had suffused his heroic idol, duty, and he could notclearly distinguish either its form or its proportions. Did he wish togo to the Holy Land or not? What a question? Had it come to that? Wasit possible that he could whisper such an enquiry, even to his midnightsoul? He did wish to go to the Holy Land; his purpose was not in theleast faltering; he most decidedly wished to go to the Holy Land, but hewished also to go thither in the company of Lady Bertie and Bellair. 

Tancred could not bring himself to desert the only being perhaps inEngland, excepting himself, whose heart was at Jerusalem; and thatbeing a woman! There seemed something about it unknightly, unkind andcowardly, almost base. Lady Bertie was a heroine worthy of ancientChristendom rather than of enlightened Europe. In the old days, trulythe good old days, when the magnetic power of Western Asia on the Gothicraces had been more puissant, her noble yet delicate spirit might havebeen found beneath the walls of Ascalon or by the purple waters ofTyre. When Tancred first met her, she was dreaming of Palestine amid herfrequent sadness; he could not, utterly void of all self-conceit ashe was, be insensible to the fact that his sympathy, founded on sucha divine congeniality, had often chased the cloud from her brow andlightened the burthen of her drooping spirit. If she were sad before, what would she be now, deprived of the society of the only being to whomshe could unfold the spiritual mysteries of her romantic soul? Was sucha character to be left alone in this world of slang and scrip; of coarsemotives and coarser words? Then, too, she was so intelligent and sogentle; the only person who understood him, and never grated for aninstant on his high ideal. Her temper also was the sweetest in theworld, eminent as her generous spirit. She spoke of others with so muchkindness, and never indulged in that spirit of detraction or that loveof personal gossip which Tancred had frankly told her he abhorred. Somehow or other it seemed that their tastes agreed on everything. 

The agitated Tancred rose from the bed where the hope of slumber wasvain. The fire in his dressing-room was nearly extinguished; wrapped inhis chamber robe, he threw himself into a chair, which he drew near theexpiring embers, and sighed. 

Unhappy youth! For you commences that great hallucination, which allmust prove, but which fortunately can never be repeated, and which, in mockery, we call first love. The physical frame has its infantiledisorders; the cough which it must not escape, the burning skin which itmust encounter. The heart has also its childish and cradle malady, whichmay be fatal, but which, if once surmounted, enables the patient to meetwith becoming power all the real convulsions and fevers of passion thatare the heirloom of our after-life. They, too, may bring destruction;but, in their case, the cause and the effect are more proportioned. The heroine is real, the sympathy is wild but at least genuine, thecatastrophe is that of a ship at sea which sinks with a rich cargo in anoble venture. 

In our relations with the softer sex it cannot be maintained thatignorance is bliss. On the contrary, experience is the best securityfor enduring love. Love at first sight is often a genial and genuinesentiment, but first love at first sight is ever eventually branded asspurious. Still more so is that first love which suffuses less rapidlythe spirit of the ecstatic votary, when he finds that by degrees hisfeelings, as the phrase runs, have become engaged. Fondness is so newto him that he has repaid it with exaggerated idolatry, and becomeintoxicated by the novel gratification of his vanity. Little does hesuspect that all this time his seventh heaven is but the crapulenceof self-love. In these cases, it is not merely that everything isexaggerated, but everything is factitious. Simultaneously, the imaginaryattributes of the idol disappearing, and vanity being satiated, all endsin a crash of iconoclastic surfeit. 

The embers became black, the night air had cooled the turbulent blood ofLord Montacute, he shivered, returned to his couch, and found a deep andinvigorating repose. 

The next morning, about two hours after noon, Tancred called on LadyBertie. As he drove up to the door, there came forth from it theforeigner who was her companion in the city fray when Tancred first sawher and went to her rescue. He recognised Lord Montacute, and bowed withmuch ceremony, though with a certain grace and bearing. He was a manwhose wrinkled visage strangely contrasted with his still gallantfigure, scrupulously attired; a blue frock-coat with a ribbonedbutton-hole, a well-turned boot, hat a little too hidalgoish, butquite new. There was something respectable and substantial about him, notwithstanding his moustaches, and a carriage a degree too debonair forhis years. He did not look like a carbonaro or a refugee. Who could hebe?

Tancred had asked himself this question before. This was not the firsttime that he had encountered this distinguished foreigner since theirfirst meeting. Tancred had seen him before this, quitting the door ofLord Bertie and Bellair; had stumbled over him before this, more thanonce, on the staircase; once, to his surprise, had met him as he enteredthe personal saloon of Lady Bertie. As it was evident, on that occasion, that his visit had been to the lady, it was thought necessary to saysomething, and he had been called the Baron, and described, though in asomewhat flurried and excited manner, as a particular friend, a personin whom they had the most entire confidence, who had been most kind tothem at Paris, putting them in the way of buying the rarest china fornothing, and who was now over here on some private business of his own, of great importance. The Bertie and Bellairs felt immense interest inhis exertions, and wished him every success; Lord Bertie particularly. It was not at all surprising, considering the innumerable kindnessesthey had experienced at his hands, was it?

'Nothing more natural, ' replied Tancred; and he turned the conversation. 

Lady Bertie was much depressed this morning, so much so that it wasimpossible for Tancred not to notice her unequal demeanour. Her handtrembled as he touched it; her face, flushed when he entered, becamedeadly pale. 

'You are not well, ' he said. 'I fear the open carriage last night hasmade you already repent our expedition. '

She shook her head. It was not the open carriage, which was delightful, nor the expedition, which was enchanting, that had affected her. Wouldthat life consisted only of such incidents, of barouches and whitebaitbanquets! Alas! no, it was not these. But she was nervous, her slumbershad been disquieted, she had encountered alarming dreams; she had aprofound conviction that something terrible was impending over her. And Tancred took her hand, to prevent, if possible, what appeared to beinevitable hysterics. But Lady Bertie and Bellair was a strong-mindedwoman, and she commanded herself. 

'I can bear anything, ' said Tancred, in a trembling voice, 'but to seeyou unhappy. ' And he drew his chair nearer to hers. 

Her face was hid, her beautiful face in her beautiful hand. There wassilence and then a sigh. 

'Dear lady, ' said Lord Montacute. 

'What is it?' murmured Lady Bertie and Bellair. 

'Why do you sigh?'

'Because I am miserable. '

'No, no, no, don't use such words, ' said the distracted Tancred. 'Youmust not be miserable; you shall not be. '

'Can I help it? Are we not about to part?'

'We need not part, ' he said, in a low voice. 

'Then you will remain?' she said, looking up, and her dark brown eyeswere fixed with all their fascination on the tortured Tancred. 

'Till we all go, ' he said, in a soothing voice. 

'That can never be, ' said Lady Bertie; 'Augustus will never hear of it;he never could be absent more than six weeks from London, he misses hisclubs so. If Jerusalem were only a place one could get at, somethingmight be done; if there were a railroad to it for example. '

'A railroad!' exclaimed Tancred, with a look of horror. 'A railroad toJerusalem!'

'No, I suppose there never can be one, ' continued Lady Bertie, in amusing tone. 'There is no traffic. And I am the victim, ' she added, ina thrilling voice; I am left here among people who do not comprehend me, and among circumstances with which I can have no sympathy. But go, LordMontacute, go, and be happy, alone. I ought to have been prepared forall this; you have not deceived me. You told me from the first you werea pilgrim, but I indulged in a dream. I believe that I should not onlyvisit Palestine, but even visit it with you. ' And she leant back in herchair and covered her face with her hands. 

Tancred rose from his seat, and paced the chamber. His heart seemed toburst. 

'What is all this?' he thought. 'How came all this to occur? How hasarisen this singular combination of unforeseen causes and undreamed-ofcircumstances, which baffles all my plans and resolutions, and seems, asit were, without my sanction and my agency, to be taking possession ofmy destiny and life? I am bewildered, confounded, incapable of thoughtor deed. '

His tumultuous reverie was broken by the sobs of Lady Bertie. 

'By heaven, I cannot endure this!' said Tancred, advancing. 'Death seemsto me preferable to her un-happiness. Dearest of women!'

'Do not call me that, ' she murmured. 'I can bear anything from your lipsbut words of fondness. And pardon all this; I am not myself to-day. I had thought that I had steeled myself to all, to our inevitableseparation; but I have mistaken myself, at least miscalculated mystrength. It is weak; it is very weak and very foolish, but you mustpardon it. I am too much interested in your career to wish you to delayyour departure a moment for my sake. I can bear our separation, at leastI think I can. I shall quit the world, for ever. I should have done sohad we not met. I was on the point of doing so when we did meet, when, when my dream was at length realised. Go, go; do not stay. Bless you, and write to me, if I be alive to receive your letters. '

'I cannot leave her, ' thought the harrowed Tancred. 'It never shall besaid of me that I could blight a woman's life, or break her heart. ' But, just as he was advancing, the door opened, and a servant brought in anote, and, without looking at Tancred, who had turned to the window, disappeared. The desolation and despair which had been impressed on thecountenance of Lady Bertie and Bellair vanished in an instant, as sherecognised the handwriting of her correspondent. They were succeeded byan expression of singular excitement. She tore open the note; a stuporseemed to spread over her features, and, giving a faint shriek, she fellinto a swoon. 

Tancred rushed to her side; she was quite insensible, and pale asalabaster. The note, which was only two lines, was open and extendedin her hands. It was from no idle curiosity, but it was impossible forTancred not to read it. He had one of those eagle visions that nothingcould escape, and, himself extremely alarmed, it was the first objectat which he unconsciously glanced in his agitation to discover the causeand the remedy for this crisis. The note ran thus:

_'3 o'clock. ' The Narrow Gauge has won. We are utterly done; andSnicks tells me you bought five hundred more yesterday, at ten. Is itpossible?_

'_f. _'

'Is it possible?' echoed Tancred, as, entrusting Lady Bertie to hermaid, he rapidly descended the staircase of her mansion. He almost ranto Davies Street, where he jumped into a cab, not permitting the driverto descend to let him in. 

'Where to?' asked the driver. 

'The city. '

'What part?'

'Never mind; near the Bank. '

Alighting from the cab, Tancred hurried to Sequin Court and sent in hiscard to Sidonia, who in a few moments received him. As he entered thegreat financier's room, there came out of it the man called in BrookStreet the Baron. 

'Well, how did your dinner go off?' said Sidonia, looking with somesurprise at the disturbed countenance of Tancred. 

'It seems very ridiculous, very impertinent I fear you will think it, 'said Tancred, in a hesitating confused manner, 'but that person, thatperson who has just left the room; I have a particular reason, I havethe greatest desire, to know who that person is. '

'That is a French capitalist, ' replied Sidonia, with a slight smile, 'an eminent French capitalist, the Baron Villebecque de Château Neuf. Hewants me to support him in a great railroad enterprise in his country:a new line to Strasbourg, and looks to a great traffic, I suppose, inpasties. But this cannot much interest you. What do you want really toknow about him? I can tell you everything. I have been acquainted withhim for years. He was the intendant of Lord Monmouth, who lefthim thirty thousand pounds, and he set up upon this at Paris as amillionaire. He is in the way of becoming one, has bought lands, is adeputy and a baron. He is rather a favourite of mine, ' added Sidonia, 'and I have been able, perhaps, to assist him, for I knew him longbefore Lord Monmouth did, in a very different position from that whichhe now fills, though not one for which I have less respect. He was afine comic actor in the courtly parts, and the most celebrated managerin Europe; always a fearful speculator, but he is an honest fellow, andhas a good heart. '

'He is a great friend of Lady Bertie and Bellair, ' said Tancred, ratherhesitatingly. 

'Naturally, ' said Sidonia. 

'She also, ' said Tancred, with a becalmed countenance, but a palpitatingheart, 'is, I believe, much interested in railroads?'

'She is the most inveterate female gambler in Europe, ' said Sidonia, 'whatever shape her speculations take. Villebecque is a great allyof hers. He always had a weakness for the English aristocracy, andremembers that he owed his fortune to one of them. Lady Bertie was ingreat tribulation this year at Paris: that was the reason she did notcome over before Easter; and Villebecque extricated her from a scrape. He would assist her now if he could. By-the-bye, the day that I had thepleasure of making your acquaintance, she was here with Villebecque, anhour at my door, but I could not see her; she pesters me, too, with herletters. But I do not like feminine finance. I hope the worthy baronwill be discreet in his alliance with her, for her affairs, which Iknow, as I am obliged to know every one's, happen to be at this momentmost critical. '

'I am trespassing on you, ' said Tancred, after a painful pause, 'but Iam about to set sail. '

'When?'

'To-morrow; to-day, if I could; and you were so kind as to promiseme----'

'A letter of introduction and a letter of credit. I have not forgotten, and I will write them for you at once. ' And Sidonia took up his pen andwrote:

A Letter of Introduction. 

To Alonzo Lara, Spanish Prior, at the Convent of Terra Santa atJerusalem. 

'Most holy Father: The youth who will deliver to you this is a pilgrimwho aspires to penetrate the great Asian mystery. Be to him what youwere to me; and may the God of Sinai, in whom we all believe, guard overyou, and prosper his enterprise!

'Sidonia. 'London, May, 1845. '

'You can read Spanish, ' said Sidonia, giving him the letter. 'The otherI shall write in Hebrew, which you will soon read. '

A Letter of Credit. 

To Adam Besso at Jerusalem. 

'London, May, 1845. 'My good Adam: If the youth who bears this requireadvances, let him have as much gold as would make the right-hand lion onthe first step of the throne of Solomon the king; and if he want more, let him have as much as would form the lion that is on the left; andso on, through every stair of the royal seat. For all which will beresponsible to you the child of Israel, who among the Gentiles is called

'Sidonia. '

CHAPTER XXIII. 

 _Jerusalem by Moonlight_

THE broad moon lingers on the summit of Mount Olivet, but its beam haslong left the garden of Gethsemane and the tomb of Absalom, the watersof Kedron and the dark abyss of Jehoshaphat. Full falls its splendour, however, on the opposite city, vivid and defined in its silver blaze. Alofty wall, with turrets and towers and frequent gates, undulates withthe unequal ground which it covers, as it encircles the lost capital ofJehovah. It is a city of hills, far more famous than those of Rome:for all Europe has heard of Sion and of Calvary, while the Arab andthe Assyrian, and the tribes and nations beyond, are as ignorant ofthe Capitolian and Aventine Mounts as they are of the Malvern or theChiltern Hills. 

The broad steep of Sion crowned with the tower of David; nearer still, Mount Moriah, with the gorgeous temple of the God of Abraham, but built, alas! by the child of Hagar, and not by Sarah's chosen one; close toits cedars and its cypresses, its lofty spires and airy arches, themoonlight falls upon Bethesda's pool; further on, entered by the gateof St. Stephen, the eye, though 'tis the noon of night, traces with easethe Street of Grief, a long winding ascent to a vast cupolaed pile thatnow covers Calvary, called the Street of Grief because there the mostillustrious of the human, as well as of the Hebrew, race, the descendantof King David, and the divine Son of the most favoured of women, twicesank under that burden of suffering and shame which is now throughoutall Christendom the emblem of triumph and of honour; passing over groupsand masses of houses built of stone, with terraced roofs, or surmountedwith small domes, we reach the hill of Salem, where Melchisedek builthis mystic citadel; and still remains the hill of Scopas, where Titusgazed upon Jerusalem on the eve of his final assault. Titus destroyedthe temple. The religion of Judaea has in turn subverted the fanes whichwere raised to his father and to himself in their imperial capital;and the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob is now worshipped beforeevery altar in Rome. 

Jerusalem by moonlight! 'Tis a fine spectacle, apart from all itsindissoluble associations of awe and beauty. The mitigating hour softensthe austerity of a mountain landscape magnificent in outline, howeverharsh and severe in detail; and, while it retains all its sublimity, removes much of the savage sternness of the strange and unrivalledscene. A fortified city, almost surrounded by ravines, and rising in thecentre of chains of far-spreading hills, occasionally offering, throughtheir rocky glens, the gleams of a distant and richer land!

The moon has sunk behind the Mount of Olives, and the stars in thedarker sky shine doubly bright over the sacred city. The all-pervadingstillness is broken by a breeze that seems to have travelled over theplain of Sharon from the sea. It wails among the tombs, and sighs amongthe cypress groves. The palm-tree trembles as it passes, as if it werea spirit of woe. Is it the breeze that has travelled over the plain ofSharon from the sea?

Or is it the haunting voice of prophets mourning over the city thatthey could not save? Their spirits surely would linger on the landwhere their Creator had deigned to dwell, and over whose impending fateOmnipotence had shed human tears. From this Mount! Who can but believethat, at the midnight hour, from the summit of the Ascension, the greatdeparted of Israel assemble to gaze upon the battlements of their mysticcity? There might be counted heroes and sages, who need shrink fromno rivalry with the brightest and the wisest of other lands; but thelawgiver of the time of the Pharaohs, whose laws are still obeyed; themonarch, whose reign has ceased for three thousand years, but whosewisdom is a proverb in all nations of the earth; the teacher, whosedoctrines have modelled civilised Europe; the greatest of legislators, the greatest of administrators, and the greatest of reformers; whatrace, extinct or living, can produce three such men as these?

The last light is extinguished in the village of Bethany. The wailingbreeze has become a moaning wind; a white film spreads over the purplesky; the stars are veiled, the stars are hid; all becomes as dark asthe waters of Kedron and the valley of Jehosha-phat. The tower of Davidmerges into obscurity; no longer glitter the minarets of the mosqueof Omar; Bethesda's angelic waters, the gate of Stephen, the streetof sacred sorrow, the hill of Salem, and the heights of Scopas can nolonger be discerned. Alone in the increasing darkness, while the veryline of the walls gradually eludes the eye, the Church of the HolySepulchre is a beacon light. 

And why is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre a beacon light? Why, whenis it already past the noon of darkness, when every soul slumbers inJerusalem, and not a sound disturbs the deep repose, except the howlof the wild dog crying to the wilder wind; why is the cupola of thesanctuary illumined, though the hour has long since been numbered whenpilgrims there kneel and monks pray?

An armed Turkish guard are bivouacked in the court of the Church; withinthe Church itself, two brethren of the convent of Terra Santa keep holywatch and ward; while, at the tomb beneath, there kneels a solitaryyouth, who prostrated himself at sunset, and who will there pass unmovedthe whole of the sacred night. 

Yet the pilgrim is not in communion with the Latin Church; neither ishe of the Church Armenian, or the Church Greek; Maronite, Coptic, orAbyssinian; these also are Christian churches which cannot call himchild. 

He comes from a distant and a northern isle to bow before the tomb ofa descendant of the kings of Israel, because he, in common with all thepeople of that isle, recognises in that sublime Hebrew incarnation thepresence of a Divine Redeemer. Then why does he come alone? It is notthat he has availed himself of the inventions of modern science torepair first to a spot which all his countrymen may equally desire tovisit, and thus anticipate their hurrying arrival. Before the inventionsof modern science, all his countrymen used to flock hither. Then why dothey not now? Is the Holy Land no longer hallowed? Is it not the land ofsacred and mysterious truths? The land of heavenly messages and earthlymiracles? The land of prophets and apostles? Is it not the land uponwhose mountains the Creator of the Universe parleyed with man, and theflesh of whose anointed race He mystically assumed, when He struck thelast blow at the powers of evil? Is it to be believed that there are nopeculiar and eternal qualities in a land thus visited, which distinguishit from all others? That Palestine is like Normandy or Yorkshire, oreven Attica or Rome. 

There may be some who maintain this; there have been some, and those, too, among the wisest and the wittiest of the northern and westernraces, who, touched by a presumptuous jealousy of the long predominanceof that oriental intellect to which they owed their civilisation, wouldhave persuaded themselves and the world that the traditions of Sinaiand Calvary were fables. Half a century ago, Europe made a violent andapparently successful effort to disembarrass itself of its Asian faith. The most powerful and the most civilised of its kingdoms, about toconquer the rest, shut up its churches, desecrated its altars, massacredand persecuted their sacred servants, and announced that the Hebrewcreeds which Simon Peter brought from Palestine, and which hissuccessors revealed to Clovis, were a mockery and a fiction. What hasbeen the result? In every city, town, village, and hamlet of that greatkingdom, the divine image of the most illustrious of Hebrews has beenagain raised amid the homage of kneeling millions; while, in theheart of its bright and witty capital, the nation has erected the mostgorgeous'' of modern temples, and consecrated its marble and goldenwalls to the name, and memory, and celestial efficacy of a Hebrew woman. 

The country of which the solitary pilgrim, kneeling at this momentat the Holy Sepulchre, was a native, had not actively shared in thatinsurrection against the first and second Testament which distinguishedthe end of the eighteenth century. But, more than six hundred yearsbefore, it had sent its king, and the flower of its peers and people, to rescue Jerusalem from those whom they considered infidels! and now, instead of the third crusade, they expend their superfluous energies inthe construction of railroads. 

The failure of the European kingdom of Jerusalem, on which such vasttreasure, such prodigies of valour, and such ardent belief had beenwasted, has been one of those circumstances which have tended to disturbthe faith of Europe, although it should have carried convictions ofa very different character. The Crusaders looked upon the Saracens asinfidels, whereas the children of the desert bore a much nearer affinityto the sacred corpse that had, for a brief space, consecrated the HolySepulchre, than any of the invading host of Europe. The same bloodflowed in their veins, and they recognised the divine missions bothof Moses and of his great successor. In an age so deficient inphysiological learning as the twelfth century, the mysteries of racewere unknown. Jerusalem, it cannot be doubted, will ever remain theappanage either of Israel or of Ishmael; and if, in the course of thosegreat vicissitudes which are no doubt impending for the East, there beany attempt to place upon the throne of David a prince of the House ofCoburg or Deuxponts, the same fate will doubtless await him as, with alltheir brilliant qualities and all the sympathy of Europe, was the finaldoom of the Godfreys, the Baldwins, and the Lusignans. 

Like them, the ancestor of the kneeling pilgrim had come to Jerusalemwith his tall lance and his burnished armour; but his descendant, thoughnot less daring and not less full of faith, could profit by the splendidbut fruitless achievements of the first Tancred de Montacute. Our herocame on this new crusade with an humble and contrite spirit, to pourforth his perplexities and sorrows on the tomb of his Redeemer, and toask counsel of the sacred scenes which the presence of that Redeemer andhis great predecessors had consecrated. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

 _A Gathering of Sages_

NEAR the gate of Sion there is a small, still, hilly street, the housesof which, as is general in the East, present to the passenger, with theexception of an occasional portal, only blank walls, built, as they areat Jerusalem, of stone, and very lofty. These walls commonly enclosea court, and, though their exterior offers always a sombre and oftensqualid appearance, it by no means follows that within you may not bewelcomed with cheerfulness and even luxury. 

At this moment a man in the Syrian dress, turban and flowing robe, ispassing through one of the gateways of this street, and entering thelarge quadrangle to which it leads. It is surrounded by arcades; on oneside indications of commerce, piles of chests, cases, and barrels; theother serving for such simple stables as are sufficient in the East. Crossing this quadrangle, the stranger passed by a corridor into asquare garden of orange and lemon trees and fountains. This garden courtwas surrounded by inhabited chambers, and, at the end of it, passingthrough a low arch at the side, and then mounting a few steps, he was atonce admitted into a spacious and stately chamber. Its lofty ceiling wasvaulted and lightly painted in arabesque; its floor was of white marble, varied with mosaics of fruit and flowers; it was panelled with cedar, and in six of the principal panels were Arabic inscriptions emblazonedin blue and gold. At the top of this hall, and ranging down its twosides, was a divan or seat, raised about one foot from the ground, andcovered with silken cushions; and the marble floor before this divan wasspread at intervals with small bright Persian carpets. 

In this chamber some half dozen persons were seated in the Easternfashion, and smoking either the choice tobaccoes of Syria through thecherry-wood or jasmine tube of a Turkish or Egyptian chibouque, orinhaling through rose-water the more artificial flavour of the nargileh, which is the hookah of the Levant. If a guest found his pipe exhausted, he clapped his hands, and immediately a negro page appeared, dressedin scarlet or in white, and, learning his pleasure, returned in a fewmoments, and bowing presented him with a fresh and illumined chibouque. At intervals, these attendants appeared without a summons, and offeredcups of Mocha coffee or vases of sherbet. 

The lord of this divan, who was seated at the upper end of the room, reclining on embroidered cushions of various colours, and using anargileh of fine workmanship, was a man much above the common height, being at least six feet two without his red cap of Fez, though so wellproportioned, that you would not at the first glance give him credit forsuch a stature. He was extremely handsome, retaining ample remains ofone of those countenances of blended regularity and lustre which arefound only in the cradle of the human race. Though he was fifty yearsof age, time had scarcely brought a wrinkle to his still brilliantcomplexion, while his large, soft, dark eyes, his arched brow, hiswell-proportioned nose, his small mouth and oval cheek presentedaltogether one of those faces which, in spite of long centuries ofphysical suffering and moral degradation, still haunt the cities of AsiaMinor, the isles of Greece, and the Syrian coasts. It is the archetypeof manly beauty, the tradition of those races who have wandered theleast from Paradise; and who, notwithstanding many vicissitudes andmuch misery, are still acted upon by the same elemental agencies asinfluenced the Patriarchs; are warmed by the same sun, freshened by thesame air, and nourished by the same earth as cheered and invigoratedand sustained the earlier generations. The costume of the East certainlydoes not exaggerate the fatal progress of time; if a figure becomes tooportly, the flowing robe conceals the incumbrance which is aggravatedby a western dress; he, too, who wears a turban has little dread of greyhairs; a grizzly beard indeed has few charms, but whether it were thelenity of time or the skill of his barber in those arts in which Asiais as experienced as Europe, the beard of the master of the divan becamethe rest of his appearance, and flowed to his waist in rich dark curls, lending additional dignity to a countenance of which the expression wasat the same time grand and benignant. 

Upon the right of the master of the divan was, smoking a jasmine pipe, Scheriff Effendi, an Egyptian merchant, of Arab race, a dark face in awhite turban, mild and imperturbable, and seated as erect on his crossedlegs as if he were administering justice; a remarkable contrast to theindividual who was on the left of the host, who might have been mistakenfor a mass of brilliant garments huddled together, had not the gurglingsound of the nargileh occasionally assured the spectator that it wasanimated by human breath. This person was apparently lying on his back, his face hid, his form not to be traced, a wild confusion of shawls andcushions, out of which, like some wily and dangerous reptile, glided thespiral involutions of his pipe. Next to the invisible sat a little wiryman with a red nose, sparkling eyes, and a white beard. His black turbanintimated that he was a Hebrew, and indeed he was well known as Barizyof the Tower, a description which he had obtained from his residencenear the Tower of David, and which distinguished him from his cousin, who was called Barizy of the Gate. Further on an Armenian from Stamboul, in his dark robes and black protuberant head-dress, resembling acolossal truffle, solaced himself with a cherry stick which reminded himof the Bosphorus, and he found a companion in this fashion in theyoung officer of a French brig-of-war anchored at Beiroot, and who hadobtained leave to visit the Holy Land, as he was anxious to see thewomen of Bethlehem, of whose beauty he had heard much. 

As the new comer entered the hall, he shuffled off his slippers at thethreshold, and then advancing, and pressing a hand to his brow, hismouth and his heart, a salutation which signifies that in thought, speech, and feeling he was faithful to his host, and which salutationwas immediately returned, he took his seat upon the divan, and themaster of the house, letting the flexible tube of his nargileh fall onone of the cushions, and clapping his hands, a page immediately broughta pipe to the new guest. This was Signor Pasqualigo, one of those nobleVenetian names that every now and then turn up in the Levant, and bornein the present case by a descendant of a family who for centuries hadenjoyed a monopoly of some of the smaller consular offices of theSyrian coast. Signor Pasqualigo had installed his son as deputy in theambiguous agency at Jaffa, which he described as a vice-consulate, andhimself principally resided at Jerusalem, of which he was the primegossip, or second only to his rival, Barizy of the Tower. He had onlytaken a preliminary puff of his chibouque, to be convinced that therewas no fear of its being extinguished, before he said, 'So there was a fine pilgrimage last night; the Church of the HolySepulchre lighted up from sunset to sunrise, an extra guard in thecourt, and only the Spanish prior and two brethren permitted to enter. It must be 10, 000 piastres at least in the coffers of the Terra Santa. Well, they want something! It is a long time since we have had a Latinpilgrim in El Khuds. '

'And they say, after all, that this was not a Latin pilgrim, ' saidBarizy of the Tower. 

'He could not have been one of my people, ' said the Armenian, 'or henever would have gone to the Holy Sepulchre with the Spanish prior. '

'Had he been one of your people, ' said Pasqualigo, 'he could not havepaid 10, 000 piastres for a pilgrimage. '

'I am sure a Greek never would, ' said Barizy, 'unless he were a Russianprince. '

'And a Russian does not care much for rosaries unless they are made ofdiamonds, ' said Pasqualigo. 

'As far as I can make out this morning, ' said Barizy of the Tower, 'itis a brother of the Queen of England. '

'I was thinking it might be that, ' said Pasqualigo, nettled at hisrival's early information, 'the moment I heard he was an Englishman. '

'The English do not believe in the Holy Sepulchre, ' said the Armenian, calmly. 

'They do not believe in our blessed Saviour, ' said Pasqualigo, 'but theydo believe in the Holy Sepulchre. '

Pasqualigo's strong point was theology, and there were few persons inJerusalem who on this head ventured to maintain an argument with him. 

'How do you know that the pilgrim is an Englishman?' asked their host. 

'Because his servants told me so, ' said Pasqualigo. 

'He has got an English general for the principal officer of hishousehold, ' said Barizy, 'which looks like blood royal; a very fine man, who passes the whole day at the English consulate. '

'They have taken a house in the Via Dolorosa, ' said Pasqualigo. 

'Of Hassan Nejed?' continued Barizy of the Tower, clutching the wordsout of his rival's grasp; 'Hassan asked five thousand piastres permonth, and they gave it. What think you of that?'

'He must indeed be an Englishman, ' said Scheriff Effendi, taking hispipe slowly from his mouth. There was a dead silence when he spoke; hewas much respected. 

'He is very young, ' said Barizy of the Tower; 'younger than the Queen, which is one reason why he is not on the throne, for in England theeldest always succeeds, except in moveables, and those always go to theyoungest. '

Barizy of the Tower, though he gave up to Pasqualigo in theology, partlyfrom delicacy, being a Jew, would yield to no man in Jerusalem in hisknowledge of law. 

'If he goes on at this rate, ' said the Armenian, 'he will soon spend allhis money; this place is dearer than Stamboul. '

'There is no fear of his spending all his money, ' said their host, 'forthe young man has brought me such a letter that if he were to tell me torebuild the temple, I must do it. '

'And who is this young man, Besso?' exclaimed the Invisible, startingup, and himself exhibiting a youthful countenance; fair, almosteffeminate, no beard, a slight moustache, his features too delicate, buthis brow finely arched, and his blue eye glittering with fire. 

'He is an English lord, ' said Besso, 'and one of the greatest; that isall I know. '

'And why does he come here?' inquired the youth. 'The English do notmake pilgrimages. ' 'Yet you have heard what he has done. ' 'And whyis this silent Frenchman smoking your Latakia, ' he continued in a lowvoice. 'He comes to Jerusalem at the same time as this Englishman. There is more in this than meets our eye. You do not know the northernnations. They exist only in political combinations. You are not apolitician, my Besso. Depend upon it, we shall hear more of thisEnglishman, and of his doing something else than praying at the HolySepulchre. '

'It may be so, most noble Emir, but as you say, I am no politician. '

'Would that you were, my Besso! It would be well for you and for all ofus. See now, ' he added in a whisper, 'that apparently inanimate mass, Scheriff Effendi--that man has a political head, he understands acombination, he is going to smuggle me five thousand English musketsinto the desert, he will deliver them to a Bedouin tribe, who haveengaged to convey them safely to the Mountain. There, what do you thinkof that, my Besso? Do you know now what are politics? Tell the Rose ofSharon of it. She will say it is beautiful. Ask the Rose what she thinksof it, my Besso. '

'Well, I shall see her to-morrow. '

'I have done well; have I not?'

'You are satisfied; that is well. '

'Not quite, my Besso; but I can be satisfied if you please. You see thatScheriff Effendi there, sitting like an Afrite; he will not give me themuskets unless I pay him for them; and the Bedouin chief, he will notcarry the arms unless I give him 10, 000 piastres. Now, if you will paythese people for me, my Besso, and deduct the expenses from my Lebanonloan when it is negotiated, that would be a great service. Now, now, myBesso, shall it be done?' he continued with the coaxing voice and withthe wheedling manner of a girl. 'You shall have any terms you like, andI will always love you so, my Besso. Let it be done, let it be done! Iwill go down on my knees and kiss your hand before the Frenchman, whichwill spread your fame throughout Europe, and make Louis Philippe takeyou for the first man in Syria, if you will do it for me. Dear, dearBesso, you will pay that old camel Scheriff Ef-fendi for me, will younot? and please the Rose of Sharon as much as me!'

'My prince, ' said Besso, 'have a fresh pipe; I never can transactbusiness after sunset. '

The reader will remember that Sidonia had given Tancred a letter ofcredit on Besso. He is the same Besso who was the friend at Jerusalem ofContarini Fleming, and this is the same chamber in which Contarini, hishost, and others who were present, inscribed one night, before theirfinal separation, certain sentences in the panels of the walls. Theoriginal writing remains, but Besso, as we have already seen, has hadthe sentences emblazoned in a manner more permanent and more strikingto the eye. They may, however, be both seen by all those who visitJerusalem, and who enjoy the flowing hospitality and experience theboundless benevolence of this prince of Hebrew merchants. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

 _Gethsemane_

THE Christian convents form one of the most remarkable features ofmodern Jerusalem. There are three principal ones; the Latin Conventof Terra Santa, founded, it is believed, during the last crusade, andrichly endowed by the kings of Christendom; the Armenian and the Greekconvents, whose revenues are also considerable, but derived from thenumerous pilgrims of their different churches, who annually visit theHoly Sepulchre, and generally during their sojourn reside within thewalls of their respective religious houses. To be competent to supplysuch accommodation, it will easily be apprehended that they are ofconsiderable size. They are in truth monastic establishments of thefirst class, as large as citadels, and almost as strong. Lofty stonewalls enclose an area of acres, in the centre of which rises anirregular mass of buildings and enclosures; courts of all shapes, galleries of cells, roofs, terraces, gardens, corridors, churches, houses, and even streets. Sometimes as many as five thousand pilgrimshave been lodged, fed, and tended during Easter in one of theseconvents. 

Not in that of Terra Santa, of which a Protestant traveller, passing fora pilgrim, is often the only annual guest; as Tancred at present. In awhitewashed cell, clean, and sufficiently airy and spacious, Tancred waslying on an iron bedstead, the only permanent furniture of the chamber, with the exception of a crucifix, but well suited to the fervent andprocreative clime. He was smoking a Turkish pipe, which stretched nearlyacross the apartment, and his Italian attendant, Baroni, on one knee, was arranging the bowl. 'I begin rather to like it, ' said Tancred. 'I amsure you would, my lord. In this country it is like mother's milk, nor is it possible to make way without it. 'Tis the finest tobacco ofLatakia, the choicest in the world, and I have smoked all. I begged itmyself from Signor Besso, whose divan is renowned, the day I called onhim with your lordship's letter. '

Saying this, Baroni quickly rose (a man from thirty-two to thirty-five);rather under the middle height, slender, lithe, and pliant; a long blackbeard, cleared off his chin when in Europe, and concealed under hiscravat, but always ready for the Orient; whiskers closely shaved butstrongly marked, sallow, an aquiline nose, white teeth, a sparklingblack eye. His costume entirely white, fashion Mamlouk, that is to say, trousers of a prodigious width, and a light jacket; a white shawl woundround his waist, enclosing his dagger; another forming his spreadingturban. Temperament, remarkable vivacity modified by extraordinaryexperience. 

Availing himself of the previous permission of his master, Baroni, having arranged the pipe, seated himself cross-legged on the floor. 

'And what are they doing about the house?' inquired Tancred. 

'They will be all stowed to-day, ' replied Baroni. 'I shall not quit thisplace, 'said Tancred; 'I wish to be quite undisturbed. '

'Be not alarmed, my lord; they are amused. The colonel never quits theconsulate; dines there every day, and tells stories about the Peninsularwar and the Bellamont cavalry, just as he did on board. Mr. Bernard isalways with the English bishop, who is delighted to have an addition tohis congregation, which is not too much, consisting of his own family, the English and Prussian consuls, and five Jews, whom they haveconverted at twenty piastres a-week; but I know they are going tostrike for wages. As for the doctor, he has not a minute to himself. Thegovernor's wife has already sent for him; he has been admitted to theharem; has felt all their pulses without seeing any of their faces, andhis medicine chest is in danger of being exhausted before your lordshiprequires its aid. '

'Take care that they are comfortable, ' said Tancred. 'And what does yourlordship wish to do today?'

'I must go to Gethsemane. '

''Tis the shot of an arrow; go out by the gate of Sion, pass through theTurkish cemetery, cross the Kedron, which is so dry this weather thatyou may do so in your slippers, and you will find the remnant of anolive grove at the base of the mount. '

'You talk as if you were giving a direction in London. '

'I wish I knew London as well as I know Jerusalem! This is not a verygreat place, and I think I have been here twenty times. Why, I madeeight visits here in '40 and '41; twice from England, and six times fromEgypt. '

'Active work!'

'Ah! those were times! If the Pasha had taken M. De Sidonia's advice, in'41, something would have happened in this city----' And here Baronipulled up: 'Your lordship's pipe draws easy?'

'Very well. And when was your first visit here, Baroni?'

'When M. De Sidonia travelled. I came in his suite from Naples, eighteenyears ago, the next Annunciation of our blessed Lady, ' and he crossedhimself. 

'You must have been very young then?'

'Young enough; but it was thought, I suppose, that I could light a pipe. We were seven when we left Naples, all picked men; but I was the onlyone who was in Paraguay with M. De Sidonia, and that was nearly the endof our travels, which lasted five years. '

'And what became of the rest?'

'Got ill or got stupid; no mercy in either case with M. De Sidonia, packed off instantly, wherever you may be; whatever money you like, but go you must. If you were in the middle of the desert, and the leastgrumbling, you would be spliced on a camel, and a Bedouin tribe wouldbe hired to take you to the nearest city, Damascus or Jerusalem, oranywhere, with an order on Signor Besso, or some other signor, to paythem. '

'And you were never invalided?'

'Never; I was young and used to tumble about as long as I can rememberday; but it was sharp practice sometimes; five years of such work as fewmen have been through. It educated me and opened my mind amazingly. '

'It seems to have done so, ' said Tancred, quietly. 

Shortly after this, Tancred, attended by Baroni, passed the gate ofSion. Not a human being was visible, except the Turkish sentries. It wasmidsummer, but no words and no experience of other places can convey anidea of the canicular heat of Jerusalem. Bengal, Egypt, even Nubia, arenothing to it; in these countries there are rivers, trees, shade, andbreezes; but Jerusalem at midday in midsummer is a city of stone in aland of iron with a sky of brass. The wild glare and savage lustre ofthe landscape are themselves awful. We have all read of the man who hadlost his shadow; this is a shadowless world. Everything is so flamingand so clear, that it would remind one of a Chinese painting, but thatthe scene is one too bold and wild for the imagination of the Mongolrace. 

'There, ' said Baroni, pointing to a group of most ancient olive treesat the base of the opposite hill, and speaking as if he were showing theway to Kensington, 'there is Gethsemane; the path to the right leads toBethany. '

'Leave me now, ' said Tancred. 

There are moments when we must be alone, and Tancred had fixed upon thishour for visiting Gethsemane, because he felt assured that no one wouldbe stirring. Descending Mount Sion, and crossing Kedron, he entered thesacred grove. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

 _The Lady of Bethany_

THE sun had been declining for some hours, the glare of the earth hadsubsided, the fervour of the air was allayed. A caravan came windinground the hills, with many camels and persons in rich, bright Syriandresses; a congregation that had assembled at the Church of theAscension on Mount Olivet had broken up, and the side of the hill wasstudded with brilliant and picturesque groups; the standard of theCrescent floated on the Tower of David; there was the clang of Turkishmusic, and the governor of the city, with a numerous cavalcade, might bediscerned on Mount Moriah, caracoling without the walls; a processionof women bearing classic vases on their heads, who had been fetchingthe waters of Siloah from the well of Job, came up the valley ofJehosha-phat, to wind their way to the gate of Stephen and enterJerusalem by the street of Calvary. 

Tancred came forth from the garden of Gethsemane, his face was flushedwith the rapt stillness of pious ecstasy; hours had vanished during hispassionate reverie, and he stared upon the declining sun. 

'The path to the right leads to Bethany. ' The force of associationbrought back the last words that he had heard from a human voice. And can he sleep without seeing Bethany? He mounts the path. What alandscape surrounds him as he moves! What need for nature to be fairin a scene like this, where not a spot is visible that is not heroicor sacred, consecrated or memorable; not a rock that is not the cave ofprophets; not a valley that is not the valley of heaven-anointed kings;not a mountain that is not the mountain of God!

Before him is a living, a yet breathing and existing city, whichAssyrian monarchs came down to besiege, which the chariots of Pharaohsencompassed, which Roman Emperors have personally assailed, for whichSaladin and Coeur de Lion, the desert and Christendom, Asia and Europe, struggled in rival chivalry; a city which Mahomet sighed to rule, andover which the Creator alike of Assyrian kings and Egyptian Pharaohs andRoman Caesars, the Framer alike of the desert and of Christendom, pouredforth the full effusion of His divinely human sorrow. 

What need of cascade and of cataract, the deep green turf, the foliageof the fairest trees, the impenetrable forest, the abounding river, mountains of glaciered crest, the voice of birds, the bounding forms ofbeauteous animals; all sights and sounds of material loveliness thatmight become the delicate ruins of some archaic theatre, or thelingering fanes of some forgotten faith? They would not be observed asthe eye seized on Sion and Calvary; the gates of Bethlehem and Damascus;the hill of Titus; the Mosque of Mahomet and the tomb of Christ. Theview of Jerusalem is the history of the world; it is more, it is thehistory of earth and of heaven. 

The path winding round the southern side of the Mount of Olives atlength brought Tancred in sight of a secluded village, situate among thehills on a sunny slope, and shut out from all objects excepting thewide landscape which immediately faced it; the first glimpse of Arabiathrough the ravines of the Judæan hills; the rapid Jordan quitting itsgreen and happy valley for the bitter waters of Asphaltites, and, in theextreme distance, the blue mountains of Moab. 

Ere he turned his reluctant steps towards the city, he was attracted bya garden, which issued, as it were, from a gorge in the hills, so thatits limit was not perceptible, and then spread over a considerablespace, comparatively with the inclosures in its vicinity, until itreached the village. It was surrounded by high stone walls, whichevery now and then the dark spiral forms of a cypress or a cedar wouldovertop, and in the more distant and elevated part rose a tall palmtree, bending its graceful and languid head, on which the sunbeamglittered. It was the first palm that Tancred had ever seen, and hisheart throbbed as he beheld that fair and sacred tree. 

As he approached the garden, Tancred observed that its portal was open:he stopped before it, and gazed upon its walks of lemon trees withdelight and curiosity. Tancred had inherited from his mother a passionfor gardens; and an eastern garden, a garden in the Holy Land, suchas Gethsemane might have been in those days of political justice whenJerusalem belonged to the Jews; the occasion was irresistible; he couldnot withstand the temptation of beholding more nearly a palm tree; andhe entered. 

Like a prince in a fairy tale, who has broken the mystic boundary ofsome enchanted pleasaunce, Tancred traversed the alleys which wereformed by the lemon and pomegranate tree, and sometimes by the myrtleand the rose. His ear caught the sound of falling water, bubbling witha gentle noise; more distinct and more forcible every step that headvanced. The walk in which he now found himself ended in an open spacecovered with roses; beyond them a gentle acclivity, clothed so thicklywith a small bright blue flower that it seemed a bank of turquoise, andon its top was a kiosk of white marble, gilt and painted; by its side, rising from a group of rich shrubs, was the palm, whose distant cresthad charmed Tancred without the gate. 

In the centre of the kiosk was the fountain, whose alluring voicehad tempted Tancred to proceed further than he had at first dared toproject. He must not retire without visiting the waters which had beenspeaking to him so long. Following the path round the area of roses, he was conducted to the height of the acclivity, and entered the kiosk;some small beautiful mats were spread upon its floor, and, reposing uponone of them, Tancred watched the bright clear water as it danced andsparkled in its marble basin. 

The reader has perhaps experienced the effect of falling water. Itslulling influence is proverbial. In the present instance, we mustremember that Tancred had been exposed to the meridian fervour of aSyrian sun, that he had been the whole day under the influence of thatexcitement which necessarily ends in exhaustion; and that, in additionto this, he had recently walked some distance; it will not, therefore, be looked upon as an incident improbable or astonishing, that LordMontacute, after pursuing for some time that train of meditation whichwas his custom, should have fallen asleep. 

His hat had dropped from his head; his rich curls fell on hisoutstretched arm that served as a pillow for a countenance which in thesweet dignity of its blended beauty and stillness might have become anarchangel; and, lying on one of the mats, in an attitude of unconsciousgracefulness, which a painter might have transferred to his portfolio, Tancred sank into a deep and dreamless repose. 

[Illustration: frontis2-p26]

He woke refreshed and renovated, but quite insensible of all that hadrecently occurred. He stretched his limbs; something seemed to embarrasshim; he found himself covered with a rich robe. He was about to rise, resting on his arm, when turning his head he beheld the form of a woman. 

She was young, even for the East; her stature rather above the ordinaryheight, and clothed in the rich dress usual among the Syrian ladies. She wore an amber vest of gold-embroidered silk, fitting closely to hershape, and fastening with buttons of precious stones from the bosom tothe waist, there opening like a tunic, so that her limbs were free torange in her huge Mamlouk trousers, made of that white Cashmere a shawlof which can be drawn through a ring. These, fastened round her ankleswith clasps of rubies, fell again over her small slippered feet. Overher amber vest she had an embroidered pelisse of violet silk, with longhanging sleeves, which showed occasionally an arm rarer than the costlyjewels which embraced it; a many-coloured Turkish scarf inclosed herwaist; and then, worn loosely over all, was an outer pelisse of amberCashmere, lined with the fur of the white fox. At the back of herhead was a cap, quite unlike the Greek and Turkish caps which we areaccustomed to see in England, but somewhat resembling the head-dress ofa Mandarin; round, not flexible, almost flat; and so thickly in-crustedwith pearls, that it was impossible to detect the colour of the velvetwhich covered it. Beneath it descended two broad braids of dark brownhair, which would have swept the ground had they not been turnedhalf-way up, and there fastened with bunches of precious stones; these, too, restrained the hair which fell, in rich braids, on each side of herface. 

That face presented the perfection of oriental beauty; such as itexisted in Eden, such as it may yet occasionally be found among thefavoured races in the favoured climes, and such as it might have beenfound abundantly and for ever, had not the folly and malignity of manbeen equal to the wisdom and beneficence of Jehovah. The countenance wasoval, yet the head was small. The complexion was neither fair nor dark, yet it possessed the brilliancy of the north without its dryness, andthe softness peculiar to the children of the sun without its moisture. A rich, subdued and equable tint overspread this visage, though the skinwas so transparent that you occasionally caught the streaky splendour ofsome vein like the dappled shades in the fine peel of beautiful fruit. 

But it was in the eye and its overspreading arch that all the Orientspake, and you read at once of the starry vaults of Araby and thesplendour of Chaldean skies. Dark, brilliant, with pupil of greatsize and prominent from its socket, its expression and effect, notwithstanding the long eyelash of the desert, would have been thoseof a terrible fascination had not the depth of the curve in which itreposed softened the spell and modified irresistible power by ineffabletenderness. This supreme organisation is always accompanied, as in thepresent instance, by a noble forehead, and by an eyebrow of perfectform, spanning its space with undeviating beauty; very narrow, thoughits roots are invisible. 

The nose was small, slightly elevated, with long oval nostrils fullydeveloped. The small mouth, the short upper lip, the teeth like theneighbouring pearls of Ormuz, the round chin, polished as a statue, were in perfect harmony with the delicate ears, and the hands with nailsshaped like almonds. 

Such was the form that caught the eye of Tan-cred. She was on theopposite side of the fountain, and stood gazing on him with calmness, and with a kind of benignant curiosity: The garden, the kiosk, thefalling waters, recalled the past, which flashed over his mind almost atthe moment when he beheld the beautiful apparition. Half risen, yetnot willing to remain until he was on his legs to apologise for hispresence, Tancred, still leaning on his arm and looking up at hisunknown companion, said, 'Lady, I am an intruder. '

The lady, seating herself on the brink of the fountain, and motioning atthe same time with her hand to Tancred not to rise, replied, 'We are sonear the desert that you must not doubt our hospitality. '

'I was tempted by the first sight of a palm tree to a step too bold; andthen sitting by this fountain, I know not how it was----'

'You yielded to our Syrian sun, ' said the lady. 

'It has been the doom of many; but you, I trust, will not find itfatal. Walking in the garden with my maidens, we observed you, and oneof us covered your head. If you remain in this land you should wear theturban. '

'This garden seems a paradise, ' said Tancred. 'I had not thought thatanything so fair could be found among these awful mountains. It is aspot that quite becomes Bethany. '

'You Franks love Bethany?'

'Naturally; a place to us most dear and interesting. '

'Pray, are you of those Franks who worship a Jewess; or of those otherwho revile her, break her images, and blaspheme her pictures?'

'I venerate, though I do not adore, the mother of God, ' said Tancred, with emotion. 

'Ah! the mother of Jesus!' said his companion. 'He is your God. He livedmuch in this village. He was a great man, but he was a Jew; and youworship him. '

'And you do not worship him?' said Tancred, looking up to her with aninquiring glance, and with a reddening cheek. 

'It sometimes seems to me that I ought, ' said the lady, 'for I am of hisrace, and you should sympathise with your race. '

'You are, then, a Hebrew?'

'I am of the same blood as Mary whom you venerate, but do not adore. '

'You just now observed, ' said Tancred, after a momentary pause, 'that itsometimes almost seems to you that you ought to acknowledge my Lord andMaster. He made many converts at Bethany, and found here some of hisgentlest disciples. I wish that you had read the history of his life. '

'I have read it. The English bishop here has given me the book. It is agood one, written, I observe, entirely by Jews. I find in it many thingswith which I agree; and if there be some from which I dissent, it may bethat I do not comprehend them. '

'You are already half a Christian!' said Tancred, with animation. 

'But the Christianity which I draw from your book does not agree withthe Christianity which you practise, ' said the lady, 'and I fear, therefore, it may be heretical. '

'The Christian Church would be your guide. '

'Which?' inquired the lady; 'there are so many in Jerusalem. There isthe good bishop who presented me with this volume, and who is himself aHebrew: he is a Church; there is the Latin Church, which was foundedby a Hebrew; there is the Armenian Church, which belongs to an Easternnation who, like the Hebrews, have lost their country and are scatteredin every clime; there is the Abyssinian Church, who hold us in greathonour, and practise many of our rites and ceremonies; and there are theGreek, the Maronite, and the Coptic Churches, who do not favour us, but who do not treat us as grossly as they treat each other. In thisperplexity it may be wise to remain within the pale of a church olderthan all of them, the church in which Jesus was born and which he neverquitted, for he was born a Jew, lived a Jew, and died a Jew; as becamea Prince of the House of David, which you do and must acknowledge him tohave been. Your sacred genealogies prove the fact; and if you could notestablish it, the whole fabric of your faith falls to the ground. '

'If I had no confidence in any Church, ' said Tancred, with agitation, 'Iwould fall down before God and beseech him to enlighten me; and, in thisland, ' he added, in a tone of excitement, 'I cannot believe that theappeal to the Mercy-seat would be made in vain. '

'But human wit ought to be exhausted before we presume to invoke divineinterposition, ' said the lady. 'I observe that Jesus was as fond ofasking questions as of performing miracles; an inquiring spirit willsolve mysteries. Let me ask you: you think that the present state of myrace is penal and miraculous?'

Tancred gently bowed assent. 

'Why do you?' asked the lady. 

'It is the punishment ordained for their rejection and crucifixion ofthe Messiah. '

'Where is it ordained?'

'Upon our heads and upon our children be his blood. '

'The criminals said that, not the judge. Is it a principle of yourjurisprudence to permit the guilty to assign their own punishment?They might deserve a severer one. Why should they transfer any of theinfliction to their posterity? What evidence have you that Omnipotenceaccepted the offer? It is not so announced in your histories. Yourevidence is the reverse. He, whom you acknowledge as omnipotent, prayedto Jehovah to forgive them on account of their ignorance. But, admitthat the offer was accepted, which in my opinion is blasphemy, is thecry of a rabble at a public execution to bind a nation? There wasa great party in the country not disinclined to Jesus at the time, especially in the provinces where he had laboured for three years, andon the whole with success; are they and their children to suffer? Butyou will say they became Christians. Admit it. We were originally anation of twelve tribes; ten, long before the advent of Jesus, had beencarried into captivity and scattered over the East and the Mediterraneanworld; they are probably the source of the greater portion of theexisting Hebrews; for we know that, even in the time of Jesus, Hebrewscame up to Jerusalem at the Passover from every province of the RomanEmpire. What had they to do with the crucifixion or the rejection?'

'The fate of the Ten Tribes is a deeply interesting question, ' saidTancred; 'but involved in, I fear, inexplicable-obscurity. In Englandthere are many who hold them to be represented by the Afghans, who statethat their ancestors followed the laws of Moses. But perhaps they ceasedto exist and were blended with their conquerors. '

'The Hebrews have never blended with their conquerors, ' said the lady, proudly. 'They were conquered frequently, like all small states situateamid rival empires. Syria was the battlefield of the great monarchies. Jerusalem has not been conquered oftener than Athens, or treated worse;but its people, unhappily, fought too bravely and rebelled too often, soat last they were expatriated. I hold that, to believe that the Hebrewcommunities are in a principal measure the descendants of the TenTribes, and of the other captivities preceding Christ, is a just, and fair, and sensible inference, which explains circumstances thatotherwise could not be explicable. But let that pass. We will supposeall the Jews in all the cities of the world to be the lineal descendantsof the mob who shouted at the crucifixion. Yet another question! Mygrandfather is a Bedouin sheikh, chief of one of the most powerfultribes of the desert. My mother was his daughter. He is a Jew; his wholetribe are Jews; they read and obey the five books, live in tents, havethousands of camels, ride horses of the Nedjed breed, and care fornothing except Jehovah, Moses, and their mares. Were they at Jerusalemat the crucifixion, and does the shout of the rabble touch them? Yet mymother marries a Hebrew of the cities, and a man, too, fit to sit on thethrone of King Solomon; and a little Christian Yahoor with a round hat, who sells figs at Smyrna, will cross the street if he see her, lest heshould be contaminated by the blood of one who crucified his Saviour;his Saviour being, by his own statement, one of the princes of our royalhouse. No; I will never become a Christian, if I am to eat such sand! Itis not to be found in your books. They were written by Jews, men fartoo well acquainted with their subject to indite such tales of thePhilistines as these!'

Tancred looked at her with deep interest as her eye flashed fire, andher beautiful cheek was for a moment suffused with the crimson cloud ofindignant passion; and then he said, 'You speak of things that deeplyinterest me, or I should not be in this land. But tell me: it cannotbe denied that, whatever the cause, the miracle exists; and that theHebrews, alone of the ancient races, remain, and are found in everycountry, a memorial of the mysterious and mighty past. '

'Their state may be miraculous without being penal. But why miraculous?Is it a miracle that Jehovah should guard his people? And can He guardthem better than by endowing them with faculties superior to those ofthe nations among whom they dwell?'

'I cannot believe that merely human agencies could have sustained acareer of such duration and such vicissitudes. '

'As for human agencies, we have a proverb: "The will of man is theservant of God. " But if you wish to make a race endure, rely upon ityou should expatriate them. Conquer them, and they may blend withtheir conquerors; exile them, and they will live apart and for ever. To expatriate is purely oriental, quite unknown to the modern world. Wewere speaking of the Armenians, they are Christians, and good ones, Ibelieve. '

'I have understood very orthodox. ' 'Go to Armenia, and you will not findan Armenian. They, too, are an expatriated nation, like the Hebrews. ThePersians conquered their land, and drove out the people. The Armenianhas a proverb: "In every city of the East I find a home. " They areeverywhere; the rivals of my people, for they are one of the greatraces, and little degenerated: with all our industry, and much of ourenergy; I would say, with all our human virtues, though it cannot beexpected that they should possess our divine qualities; they have notproduced Gods and prophets, and are proud that they can trace up theirfaith to one of the obscurest of the Hebrew apostles, and who never knewhis great master. '

'But the Armenians are found only in the East, ' said Tancred. 

'Ah!' said the lady, with a sarcastic smile; 'it is exile to Europe, then, that is the curse: well, I think you have some reason. I do notknow much of your quarter of the globe: Europe is to Asia what Americais to Europe. But I have felt the winds of the Exuine blowing up theBosphorus; and, when the Sultan was once going to cut off our heads forhelping the Egyptians, I passed some months at Vienna. Oh! how I sighedfor my beautiful Damascus!'

'And for your garden at Bethany?' said Tancred. 

'It did not exist then. This is a recent creation, ' said the lady. 'Ihave built a nest in the chink of the hills, that I might look uponArabia; and the palm tree that invited you to honour my domain was thecontribution of my Arab grandfather to the only garden near Jerusalem. But I want to ask you another question. What, on the whole, is the thingmost valued in Europe?'

Tancred pondered; and, after a slight pause, said, 'I think I know whatought to be most valued in Europe; it is something very different fromwhat I fear I must confess is most valued there. My cheek burns while Isay it; but I think, in Europe, what is most valued is money. '

'On the whole, ' said the lady, 'he that has most money there is mosthonoured?'

'Practically, I apprehend so. '

'Which is the greatest city in Europe?'

'Without doubt, the capital of my country, London. '

'Greater I know it is than Vienna; but is it greater than Paris?'

'Perhaps double the size of Paris. '

'And four times that of Stamboul! What a city! Why 'tis Babylon! Howrich the most honoured man must be there! Tell me, is he a Christian?'

'I believe he is one of your race and faith. ' 'And in Paris; who is therichest man in Paris?' 'The brother, I believe, of the richest man inLondon. '

'I know all about Vienna, ' said the lady, smiling. 'Cæsar makes mycountrymen barons of the empire, and rightly, for it would fall topieces in a week without their support. Well, you must admit that theEuropean part of the curse has not worked very fatally. '

'I do not see, ' said Tancred thoughtfully, after a short pause, 'thatthe penal dispersion of the Hebrew nation is at all essential to thegreat object of the Christian scheme. If a Jew did not exist, that wouldequally have been obtained. '

'And what do you hold to be the essential object of the Christianscheme?' 'The Expiation. '

'Ah!' said the lady, in a tone of much solemnity, 'that is a great idea;in harmony with our instincts, with our traditions, our customs. Itis deeply impressed upon the convictions of this land. Shaped as youChristians offer the doctrine, it loses none of its sublimity; or itsassociations, full at the same time of mystery, power, and solace. Asacrificial Mediator with Jehovah, that expiatory intercessor born fromthe chosen house of the chosen people, yet blending in his inexplicablenature the divine essence with the human elements, appointed before alltime, and purifying, by his atoning blood, the myriads that preceded andthe myriads that will follow us, without distinction of creed or clime, this is what you believe. I acknowledge the vast conception, dimly as mybrain can partially embrace it. I understand thus much: the human raceis saved; and, without the apparent agency of a Hebrew prince, it couldnot have been saved. Now tell me: suppose the Jews had not prevailedupon the Romans to crucify Jesus, what would have become of theAtonement?'

'I cannot permit myself to contemplate such contingencies, ' saidTancred. 'The subject is too high for me to touch with speculation. I must not even consider an event that had been pre-ordained by theCreator of the world for countless ages. '

'Ah!' said the lady; 'pre-ordained by the Creator of the world forcountless ages! Where, then, was the inexpiable crime of those whofulfilled the beneficent intention? The holy race supplied the victimand the immolators. What other race could have been entrusted with sucha consummation? Was not Abraham prepared to sacrifice even his son? Andwith such a doctrine, that embraces all space and time; nay more, chaosand eternity; with divine persons for the agents, and the redemption ofthe whole family of man for the subject; you can mix up the miserablepersecution of a single race! And this is practical, not doctrinalChristianity. It is not found in your Christian books, which were allwritten by Jews; it must have been made by some of those Churches towhich you have referred me. Persecute us! Why, if you believe what youprofess, you should kneel to us! You raise statues to the hero who savesa country. We have saved the human race, and you persecute us for doingit. '

'I am no persecutor, ' said Tancred, with emotion; 'and, had I been so, my visit to Bethany would have cleansed my heart of such dark thoughts. '

'We have some conclusions in common, ' said his companion, rising. 'Weagree that half Christendom worships a Jewess, and the other half aJew. Now let me ask one more question. Which is the superior race, theworshipped or the worshippers?'

Tancred looked up to reply, but the lady had disappeared. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

 _Fakredeen and the Rose of Sharon_

BEFORE Tancred could recover from his surprise, the kiosk was invadedby a crowd of little grinning negro pages, dressed in white tunics, withred caps and slippers. They bore a number of diminutive trays of ebonyinlaid with tortoiseshell, and the mother-o'-pearl of Joppa, and coveredwith a great variety of dishes. It was in vain that he would havesignified to them that he had no wish to partake of the banquet, andthat he attempted to rise from his mat. They understood nothing that hesaid, but always grinning and moving about him with wonderful quickness, they fastened a napkin of the finest linen, fringed with gold, round hisneck, covered the mats and the border of the fountain with theirdishes and vases of differently-coloured sherbets, and proceeded, notwithstanding all his attempts at refusal, to hand him their daintiesin due order. Notwithstanding his present tone of mind, which wasill-adapted to any carnal gratification, Tancred had nevertheless beenan unusual number of hours without food. He had made during the periodno inconsiderable exertion, and was still some distance from thecity. Though he resigned himself perforce to the care of his littleattendants, their solicitude therefore was not inappropriate. Hepartook of some of their dishes, and when he had at length succeededin conveying to them his resolution to taste no more, they cleared thekiosk with as marvellous a celerity as they had stored it, and then twoof them advanced with a nargileh and a chibouque, to offer their choiceto their guest. Tan-cred placed the latter for a moment to his mouth, and then rising, and making signs to the pages that he would now return, they danced before him in the path till he had reached the other sideof the area of roses, and then, with a hundred bows, bending, they tooktheir leave of him. 

The sun had just sunk as Tancred quitted the garden: a crimson glow, shifting, as he proceeded, into rich tints of purple and of gold, suffused the stern Judæan hills, and lent an almost supernatural lustreto the landscape; lighting up the wild gorges, gilding the distantglens, and still kindling the superior elevations with its living blaze. The air, yet fervid, was freshened by a slight breeze that came over thewilderness from the Jordan, and the big round stars that were alreadyfloating in the skies were the brilliant heralds of the splendour ofa Syrian night. The beauteous hour and the sacred scene were alike inunison with the heart of Tancred, softened and serious. He mused infascinated reverie over the dazzling incident of the day. Who was thislady of Bethany, who seemed not unworthy to have followed Him who hadmade her abiding place so memorable? Her beauty might have baffled themost ideal painter of the fair Hebrew saints. Raffaelle himself couldnot have designed a brow of more delicate supremacy. Her lofty butgracious bearing, the vigour of her clear, frank mind, her earnestness, free from all ecstasy and flimsy enthusiasm, but founded in knowledgeand deep thought, and ever sustained by exact expression and readyargument, her sweet witty voice, the great and all-engaging theme onwhich she was so content to discourse, and which seemed by right tobelong to her: all these were circumstances which wonderfully affectedthe imagination of Tancred. 

He was lost in the empyrean of high abstraction, his gaze apparentlyfixed on the purple mountains, and the golden skies, and the glitteringorbs of coming night, which yet in truth he never saw, when a repeatedshout at length roused him. It bade him stand aside on the narrow paththat winds round the Mount of Olives from Jerusalem to Bethany, and leta coming horseman pass. The horseman was the young Emir who was a guestthe night before in the divan of Besso. Though habited in the Mamloukdress, as if only the attendant of some great man, huge trousers andjacket of crimson cloth, a white turban, a shawl round his waist holdinghis pistols and sabre, the horse he rode was a Kochlani of the highestbreed. , By him was a running footman, holding his nargileh, to whichthe Emir frequently applied his mouth as he rode along. He shot a keenglance at Tancred as he passed by, and then throwing his tube to hisattendant, he bounded on. 

In the meantime, we must not forget the lady of Bethany after she sosuddenly disappeared from the kiosk. Proceeding up her mountain garden, which narrowed as she advanced, and attended by two female slaves, whohad been in waiting without the kiosk, she was soon in that hilly chinkin which she had built her nest; a long, low pavilion, with a shelvingroof, and surrounded by a Saracenic arcade; the whole painted in fresco;a golden pattern of flowing fancy on a white ground. If there were dooror window, they were entirely concealed by the blinds which appeared tocover the whole surface of the building. Stepping into the arcade, thelady entered the pavilion by a side portal, which opened by a secretspring, and which conducted her into a small corridor, and this againthrough two chambers, in both of which were many females, who mutelysaluted her without rising from their employments. 

Then the mistress entered a more capacious and ornate apartment. Its ceiling, which described the horseshoe arch of the Saracens, wasencrusted with that honeycomb work which is peculiar to them, and which, in the present instance, was of rose colour and silver. Mirrors wereinserted in the cedar panels of the walls; a divan of rose-coloured silksurrounded the chamber, and on the thick soft carpet of many colours, which nearly covered the floor, were several cushions surrounding anantique marble tripod of wreathed serpents. The lady, disembarrassingherself of her slippers, seated herself on the divan in the fashion ofher country; one of her attendants brought a large silver lamp, whichdiffused a delicious odour as well as a brilliant light, and placedit on the tripod; the other clapped her hands, and a band of beautifulgirls entered the room, bearing dishes of confectionery, plates ofchoice fruits, and vases of delicious sherbets. The lady, partaking ofsome of these, directed, after a short time, that they should be offeredto her immediate attendants, who thereupon kissed their hands with agrave face, and pressed them to their hearts. Then one of the girls, leaving the apartment for a moment, returned with a nargileh of crystal, set by the most cunning artists of Damascus in a framework of goldenfiligree crusted with precious stones. She presented the flexible silvertube, tipped with amber, to the lady, who, waving her hand that the roomshould be cleared, smoked a confection of roses and rare nuts, while shelistened to a volume read by one of her maidens, who was seated by thesilver lamp. 

While they were thus employed, an opposite curtain to that by which theyhad entered was drawn aside, and a woman advanced, and whispered somewords to the lady, who seemed to signify her assent. Immediately, a tallnegro of Dongola, richly habited in a flowing crimson vest, and witha large silver collar round his neck, entered the hall, and, after theusual salutations of reverence to the lady, spoke earnestly in a lowvoice. The lady listened with great attention, and then, taking out hertablets from her girdle, she wrote a few words and gave a leaf to thetall negro, who bowed and retired. Then she waved her hand, and themaiden who was reading closed her book, rose, and, pressing her hand toher heart, retired. 

It seemed that the young Emir had arrived at the pavilion, and prayedthat, without a moment's delay, he might speak with the Lady of Bethany. 

The curtain was again withdrawn, a light step was heard, the young manwho had recently passed Tancred on the road to Jerusalem bounded intothe room. 

'How is the Rose of Sharon?' he exclaimed. He threw himself at her feet, and pressed the hem of her garment to his lips with an ecstasy whichit would have been difficult for a bystander to decide whether it weremockery or enthusiasm, or genuine feeling, which took a sportive air toveil a devotion which it could not conceal, and which it cared not toogravely to intimate. 

'Ah, Fakredeen!' said the lady, 'and when did you leave the Mountain?'

'I arrived at Jerusalem yesterday by sunset; never did I want to see youso much. The foreign consuls have stopped my civil war, which cost me ahundred thousand piastres. We went down to Beiroot and signed articlesof peace; I thought it best to attend to escape suspicion. However, there is more stirring than you can conceive: never had I suchcombinations! First, let me shortly tell you what I have done, then whatI wish you to do. I have made immense hits, but I am also in a scrape. '

'That I think you always are, ' said the lady. 

'But you will get me out of it, Rose of Sharon! You always do, brightestand sweetest of friends! What an alliance is ours! My invention, yourjudgment; my combinations, your criticism. It must carry everythingbefore it. '

'I do not see that it has effected much hitherto, ' said the lady. 'However, give me your mountain news. What have you done?'

'In the first place, ' said Fakredeen, 'until this accursed peaceintrigue of the foreign consuls, which will not last as long as thecarnival, the Mountain was more troubled than ever, and the Porte, backed up by Sir Canning, is obstinate against any prince of our houseexercising the rule. '

'Do you call that good news?'

'It serves. In the first place it keeps my good uncle, the Emir Bescheerand his sons, prisoners at the Seven Towers. Now, I will tell you what Ihave done. I have sent to my uncle and offered him two hundred thousandpiastres a year for his life and that of his sons, if they willrepresent to the Porte that none but a prince of the house of Shehaabcan possibly pacify and administer Lebanon, and that, to obtain thisnecessary end, they are ready to resign their rights in favour of anyother member of the family. '

'What then?' said the Lady of Bethany, taking her nargileh from hermouth. 

'Why, then, ' said Fakredeen, 'I am by another agent working upon RizaPasha to this effect, that of all the princes of the great house ofShehaab, there is none so well adapted to support the interests of thePorte as the Emir Fakredeen, and for these three principal reasons: inthe first place, because he is a prince of great qualities----'

'Your proof of them to the vizir would be better than your assertion. '

'Exactly, ' said Fakredeen. 'I prove them by my second reason, which is aguaranty to his excellency of the whole revenue of the first year of myprincedom, provided I receive the berat. '

'I can tell you something, ' said the lady, 'Riza shakes a little. He istoo fond of first-fruits. His nomination will not be popular. '

'Yes it will, when the divan takes into consideration the third reasonfor my appointment, ' said the prince. 'Namely, that the Emir Fakredeenis the only prince of the great house of Shehaab who is a goodMussulman. '

'You a good Mussulman! Why, I thought you had sent two months agoArchbishop Murad to Paris, urging King Louis to support you, because, amongst other reasons, being a Christian prince, you would defend thefaith and privileges of the Maronites. '

'And devote myself to France, ' said Fakredeen. 'It is very true, and anexcellent combination it is, if we could only bring it to bear, which Ido not despair of, though affairs, which looked promising at Paris, havetaken an unfortunate turn of late. '

'I am sorry for that, ' said the lady, 'for really, Fakredeen, of allyour innumerable combinations, that did seem to me to be the mostpractical. I think it might have been worked. The Maronites arepowerful; the French nation is interested in them; they are the linkbetween France and Syria; and you, being a Christian prince as well asan emir of the most illustrious house, with your intelligence and suchaid as we might give you, I think your prospects were, to say the least, fair. '

'Why, as to being a Christian prince, Eva, you must remember I aspire toa dominion where I have to govern the Maronites who are Christians, the Metoualis who are Mahometans, the Ansareys who are Pagans, and theDruses who are nothing. As for-myself, my house, as you well know, ismore ancient even than that of Othman. We are literally descended fromthe standard-bearer of the Prophet, and my own estates, as well as thoseof the Emir Bes-cheer, have been in our registered possession for nearlyeight hundred years. Our ancestors became Christians to conciliate theMaronites. Now tell me: in Europe, an English or French prince who wantsa throne never hesitates to change his religion, why should I be morenice? I am of that religion which gives me a sceptre; and if a Frankprince adopts a new creed when he quits London or Paris, I cannotunderstand why mine may not change according to the part of the mountainthrough which I am passing. What is the use of belonging to an oldfamily unless to have the authority of an ancestor ready for anyprejudice, religious or political, which your combinations may require?'

'Ah! Fakredeen, ' said the lady, shaking her head, 'you have noself-respect. '

'No Syrian has; it won't do for us. You are an Arabian; it will do forthe desert. Self-respect, too, is a superstition of past centuries, anaffair of the Crusades. It is not suited to these times; it is muchtoo arrogant, too self-conceited, too egotistical. No one is importantenough to have self-respect. Don't you see?'

'You boast of being a prince inferior to none in the antiquity of yourlineage, and, as far as the mere fact is concerned, you are justifiedin your boast. I cannot comprehend how one who feels this pride shoulddeign to do anything that is not princely. '

'A prince!' exclaimed Fakredeen. 'Princes go for nothing now, withouta loan. Get me a loan, and then you turn the prince into a government. That's the thing. '

'You will never get a loan till you are Emir of Lebanon, ' said the lady. 'And you have shown me to-day that the only chance you have is failingyou, for, after all, Paris was your hope. What has crossed you?'

'In the first place, ' said Fakredeen, 'what can the French do? Afterhaving let the Egyptians be driven out, fortunately for me, for theirexpulsion ruined my uncle, the French will never take the initiative inSyria. All that I wanted of them was, that they should not oppose RizaPasha in his nomination of me. But to secure his success a finer movewas necessary. So I instructed Archbishop Murad, whom they received verywell at Paris, to open secret communications over the water with theEnglish. He did so, and offered to cross and explain in detail to theirministers. I wished to assure them in London that I was devoted totheir interests; and I meant to offer to let the Protestant missionariesestablish themselves in the mountain, so that Sir Canning should havereceived instructions to support my nomination by Riza. Then you see, I should have had the Porte, England, and France. The game was won. Canyou believe it? Lord Aberdeen enclosed my agent's letter to Guizot. Iwas crushed. '

'And disgraced. You deserved it. You never will succeed. Intrigue willbe your ruin, Fakredeen. '

'Intrigue!' exclaimed the prince, starting from the cushion near thetripod, on which he sat, speaking with great animation and using, aswas his custom, a superfluity of expression, both of voice and handsand eyes, 'intrigue! It is life! It is the only thing! How do you thinkGuizot and Aberdeen got to be ministers without intrigue? Or Riza Pashahimself? How do you think Mehemet Ali got on? Do you believe Sir Canningnever intrigues? He would be recalled in a week if he did not. Why, Ihave got one of his spies in my castle at this moment, and I makehim write home for the English all that I wish them not to believe. Intrigue! Why, England won India by intrigue. Do you think they are notintriguing in the Punjaub at this moment? Intrigue has gained half thethrones of Europe: Greece, France, Belgium, Portugal, Spain, Russia. Ifyou wish to produce a result, you must make combinations; and you callcombinations, Eva, intrigue!'

'And this is the scrape that you are in, ' said the lady. 'I do not seehow I can help you out of it. '

'Pardon; this is not the scrape: and here comes the point on which Ineed your aid, daughter of a thousand sheikhs! I can extricate myselffrom the Paris disaster, even turn it to account. I have made analliance with the patriarch of the Lebanon, who manages affairs for theEmir Bescheer. The patriarch hates Murad, whom you see I was to havemade patriarch. I am to declare the Archbishop an unauthorised agent, an adventurer, and my letter to be a forgery. The patriarch is to goto Stamboul, with his long white beard, and put me right with France, through De Bourqueney, with whom he has relations in favour of the EmirBescheer; my uncle is to be thrown over; all the Maronite chiefs areto sign a declaration supplicating the Porte to institute me; nay, thedeclaration is signed----'

'And the Druses? Will not this Maronite manifestation put you wrong withthe Druses?'

'I live among the Druses, you see, ' said Fakredeen, shaking his head, and looking with his glittering eye a thousand meanings. 'The Druseslove me. They know that I am one of themselves. They will only thinkthat I have made the Maronites eat sand. '

'And what have you really done for the Maronites to gain all this?'asked the lady, quietly. 

'There it is, ' said Fakredeen, speaking in an affected whisper, 'thegreatest stroke of state that ever entered the mind of a king withouta kingdom, for I am resolved that the mountain shall be a royalty I Youremember when Ibrahim Pasha laid his plans for disarming the Lebanon, the Maronites, urged by their priests, fell into the snare, while theDruses wisely went with their muskets and scimitars, and lived awhilewith the eagle and the antelope. This has been sand to the Maronitesever since. The Druses put their tongues in their cheek whenever theymeet, and treat them as so many women. The Porte, of course, will donothing for the Maronites; they even take back the muskets which theylent them for the insurrection. Well, as the Porte will not arm them, Ihave agreed to do it. '

'You!'

''Tis done; at least the caravan is laden; we only want a guide. And this is why I am at Jerusalem. Scheriff Effendi, who met me hereyesterday, has got me five thousand English muskets, and I have arrangedwith the Bedouin of Zoalia to carry them to the mountain. '

'You have indeed Solomon's signet, my dear Fakredeen. '

'Would that I had; for then I could pay two hundred thousand piastresto that Egyptian camel, Scheriff Effendi, and he would give me up mymuskets, which now, like a true son of Eblis, he obstinately retains. '

'And this is your scrape, Fakredeen. And how much have you towards thesum?'

'Not a piastre; nor do I suppose I shall ever see, until I make a greatfinancial stroke, so much of the sultan's gold as is on one of the giltballs of roses in your nargileh. My crops are sold for next year, myjewels are gone, my studs are to be broken up. There is not a cur in thestreets of Beiroot of whom I have not borrowed money. Riza Pasha is asponge that would dry the sea of Galilee. '

'It is a great thing to have gained the Patriarch of Lebanon, ' saidthe lady; 'I always felt that, as long as that man was against you, theMaronites never could be depended on. And yet these arms; after all, they are of no use, for you would not think of insurrection!'

'No; but they can quarrel with the Druses, and cut each other's throats, and this will make the mountain more unmanageable than ever, and theEnglish will have no customers for their calicoes, don't you see? LordPalmerston will arraign the minister in the council. I shall pay offAberdeen for enclosing the Archbishop's letter to Guizot. Combinationupon combination! The calico merchants will call out for a prince of thehouse of Shehaab! Riza will propose me; Bourqueney will not murmur, andSir Canning, finding he is in a mess, will sign a fine note of wordsabout the peace of Europe and the prosperity of Lebanon, and 'tisfinished. '

'And my father, you have seen him?'

'I have seen him, ' said the young Emir, and he cast his eyes on theground. 

'He has done so much, ' said Eva. 

'Ask him to do more, Rose of Sharon, ' said Fakredeen, like a child aboutto cry for a toy, and he threw himself on his knees before Eva, and keptkissing her robe. 'Ask him to do more, ' he repeated, in a suppressedtone of heart-rending cajolery; 'he can refuse you nothing. Ask him, askhim, Eva! I have no friend in the world but you; I am so desolate. You have always been my friend, my counsellor, my darling, my ruby, mypearl, my rose of Rocnabad! Ask him, Eva; never mind my faults; youknow me by heart; only ask him!'

She shook her head. 

'Tell him that you are my sister, that I am his son, that I love youso, that I love him so; tell him anything. Say that he ought to do itbecause I am a Hebrew. '

'A what?' said Eva. 

'A Hebrew; yes, a Hebrew. I am a Hebrew by blood, and we all are byfaith. '

'Thou son of a slave!' exclaimed the lady, 'thou masquerade of humanity!Christian or Mussulman, Pagan or Druse, thou mayest figure as; but sparemy race, Fakredeen, they are fallen----'

'But not so base as I am. It may be true, but I love you, Eva, and youlove me; and if I had as many virtues as yourself, you could not loveme more; perhaps less. Women like to feel their superiority; you areas clever as I am, and have more judgment; you are generous, and I amselfish; honourable, and I am a villain; brave, and I am a coward; rich, and I am poor. Let that satisfy you, and do not trample on the fallen;'and Fakredeen took her hand and bedewed it with his tears. 

'Dear Fakredeen, ' said Eva, 'I thought you spoke in jest, as I did. '

'How can a man jest, who has to go through what I endure!' said theyoung Emir, in a desponding tone, and still lying at her feet. 'O, mymore than sister, 'tis hell! The object I propose to myself would, withthe greatest resources, be difficult; and now I have none. '

'Relinquish it. '

'When I am young and ruined! When I have the two greatest stimulants inthe world to action, Youth and Debt! No; such a combination is never tobe thrown away. Any young prince ought to win the Lebanon, but a youngprince in debt ought to conquer the world!' and the Emir sprang from thefloor, and began walking about the apartment. 

'I think, Eva, ' he said, after a moment's pause, and speaking in hisusual tone, 'I think you really might do something with your father; Ilook upon myself as his son; he saved my life. And I am a Hebrew; Iwas nourished by your mother's breast, her being flows in my veins;and independent of all that, my ancestor was the standard-bearer of theProphet, and the Prophet was the descendant of Ishmael, and Ishmaeland Israel were brothers. I really think, between my undoubted Arabianorigin and being your foster-brother, that I may be looked upon as aJew, and that your father might do something for me. '

'Whatever my father will do, you and he must decide together, ' said Eva;'after the result of my last interference, I promised my father that Inever would speak to him on your affairs again; and you know, therefore, that I cannot. You ought not to urge me, Fakredeen. '

'Ah! you are angry with me, ' he exclaimed, and again seated himselfat her feet. 'You were saying in your heart, he is the most selfish ofbeings. It is true, I am. But I have glorious aspirations at least. I amnot content to live like my fathers in a beautiful palace, amid my woodsand mountains, with Kochlani steeds, falcons that would pull down aneagle, and nargilehs of rubies and emeralds. I want something more thantroops of beautiful slaves, music and dances. I want Europe to talk ofme. I am wearied of hearing nothing but Ibrahim Pasha, Louis Philippe, and Palmerston. I, too, can make combinations; and I am of a betterfamily than all three, for Ibrahim is a child of mud, a Bourbon is notequal to a Shehaab, and Lord Palmerston only sits in the Queen'ssecond chamber of council, as I well know from an Englishman who was atBeiroot, and with whom I have formed some political relations, of whichperhaps some day you will hear. '

'Well, we have arrived at a stage of your career, Fakredeen, in which nocombination presents itself; I am powerless to assist you; my resources, never very great, are quite exhausted. '

'No, ' said the Emir, 'the game is yet to be won. Listen, Rose of Sharon, for this is really the point on which I came to hold counsel. A youngEnglish lord has arrived at Jerusalem this week or ten days past; heis of the highest dignity, and rich enough to buy the grand bazaar ofDamascus; he has letters of credit on your father's house withoutany limit. No one can discover the object of his mission. I have somesuspicions; there is also a French officer here who never speaks; Iwatch them both. The Englishman, I learnt this morning, is going toMount Sinai. It is not a pilgrimage, because the English are reallyneither Jews nor Christians, but follow a sort of religion of their own, which is made every year by their bishops, one of whom they have sentto Jerusalem, in what they call a parliament, a college of muftis; youunderstand. Now lend me that ear that is like an almond of Aleppo! Ipropose that one of the tribes that obey your grandfather shall makethis Englishman prisoner as he traverses the desert. You see? Ah! Roseof Sharon, I am not yet beat; your Fakredeen is not the baffled boythat, a few minutes ago, you looked as if you thought him. I defyIbrahim, or the King of France, or Palmerston himself, to make acombination superior to this. What a ransom! The English lord will payScheriff Effendi for his five thousand muskets, and for their conveyanceto the mountain besides. '

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

 _Besso, the Banker_

IN ONE of those civil broils at Damascus which preceded the fall of theJanissaries, an Emir of the house of Shehaab, who lost his life in thefray, had, in the midst of the convulsion, placed his infant son in thecharge of the merchant Besso, a child most dear to him, not only becausethe babe was his heir, but because his wife, whom he passionatelyloved, a beautiful lady of Antioch and of one of the old families of thecountry, had just sacrificed her life in giving birth to their son. 

The wife of Besso placed the orphan infant at her own breast, and theyoung Fakredeen was brought up in every respect as a child of the house;so that, for some time, he looked upon the little Eva, who was threeyears younger than himself, as his sister. When Fakredeen hadattained an age of sufficient intelligence for the occasion and thecircumstances, his real position was explained to him; but he was stilltoo young for the communication to effect any change in his feelings, and the idea that Eva was not his sister only occasioned him sorrow, until his grief was forgotten when he found that the change made nodifference in their lives or their love. 

Soon after the violent death of the father of Fakredeen, affairs hadbecome more tranquil, and Besso had not neglected the interests of hischarge. The infant was heir to a large estate in the Lebanon; a finecastle, an illimitable forest, and cultivated lands, whose produce, chiefly silk, afforded a revenue sufficient to maintain the notinconsiderable state of a mountain prince. 

When Fakredeen was about ten years of age, his relative the EmirBescheer, who then exercised a sovereign and acknowledged sway over allthe tribes of the Lebanon, whatever their religion or race, signifiedhis pleasure that his kinsman should be educated at his court, in thecompany of his sons. So Fakredeen, with many tears, quitted his happyhome at Damascus, and proceeded to Beteddeen, the beautiful palace ofhis uncle, situate among the mountains in the neighbourhood of Beiroot. This was about the time that the Egyptians were effecting the conquestof Syria, and both the Emir Bescheer, the head of the house ofShehaab as well as Prince of the Mountain, and the great commercialconfederation of the brothers Besso, had declared in favour of theinvader, and were mainly instrumental to the success of Mehemet Ali. Political sympathy, and the feelings of mutual dependence whichunited the Emir Bescheer and the merchant of Damascus, renderedthe communications between the families so frequent that it was notdifficult for the family of Besso to cherish those sentiments ofaffection which were strong and lively in the heart of the youngFakredeen, but which, under any circumstances, depend so much onsustained personal intercourse. Eva saw a great deal of her formerbrother, and there subsisted between them a romantic friendship. Hewas their frequent guest at Damascus and was proud to show her how heexcelled in his martial exercises, how skilful he was with his falcon, and what horses of pure race he proudly rode. 

In the year '39, Fakredeen being then fifteen years of age, the countryentirely tranquil, even if discontented, occupied by a disciplinedarmy of 80, 000 men, commanded by captains equal it was supposed to anyconjuncture, the Egyptians openly encouraged by the greatest militarynation of Europe, the Turks powerless, and only secretly sustained bythe countenance of the ambassador of the weakest government that evertottered in England, a government that had publicly acknowledged thatit had forfeited the confidence of the Parliament which yet it didnot dissolve; everything being thus in a state of flush and affluentprosperity, and both the house of Shehaab and the house of Bessofeeling, each day more strongly, how discreet and how lucky they hadbeen in the course which they had adopted, came the great Syrian crash!

Whatever difference of opinion may exist as to the policy pursued bythe foreign minister of England, with respect to the settlement of theTurkish Empire in 1840-41, none can be permitted, by those, at least, competent to decide upon such questions, as to the ability with whichthat policy was accomplished. When we consider the position of theminister at home, not only deserted by Parliament, but abandoned by hisparty and even forsaken by his colleagues; the military occupationof Syria by the Egyptians; the rabid demonstration of France; that anaccident of time or space, the delay of a month or the gathering of astorm, might alone have baffled all his combinations, it is difficult tofix upon a page in the history of this country which records a superiorinstance of moral intrepidity. The bold conception and the brilliantperformance were worthy of Chatham; but the domestic difficulties withwhich Lord Palmerston had to struggle place the exploit beyond thehappiest achievement of the elder Pitt. Throughout the memorableconjuncture, Lord Palmerston, however, had one great advantage, whichwas invisible to the millions; he was served by a most vigilant and ablediplomacy. The superiority of his information concerning the state ofSyria to that furnished to the French minister was the real meansby which he baffled the menaced legions of our neighbours. A timidSecretary of State in the position of Lord Palmerston, even with suchadvantages, might have faltered; but the weapon was placed in the handsof one who did not shrink from its exercise, and the expulsion ofthe Egyptians from Turkey remains a great historic monument alike ofdiplomatic skill and administrative energy. 

The rout of the Egyptians was fatal to the Emir Bescheer, and it seemedalso, for a time, to the Damascus branch of the family of Besso. But inthese days a great capitalist has deeper roots than a sovereign prince, unless he is very legitimate. The Prince of the Mountain and hissons were summoned from their luxurious and splendid Beteddeen toConstantinople, where they have ever since remained prisoners. YoungFakredeen, the moment he heard of the fall of Acre, rode out with hisfalcon, as if for the pastime of a morning, and the moment he was out ofsight made for the desert, and never rested until he reached the tentsof the children of Rechab, where he placed himself under the protectionof the grandfather of Eva. 

As for the merchant himself, having ships at his command, he contrivedto escape with his wife and his young daughter to Trieste, and heremained in the Austrian dominions between three and four years. At length the influence of Prince Metternich, animated by Sidonia, propitiated the Porte. Adarfi Besso, after making his submission atStamboul, and satisfactorily explaining his conduct to Riza Pasha, returned to his country, not substantially injured in fortune, thoughthe northern clime had robbed him of his Arabian wife; for his brothers, who, as far as politics were concerned, had ever kept in the shade, hadmanaged affairs in the absence of the more prominent member of theirhouse, and, in truth, the family of Besso were too rich to be long undera cloud. The Pasha of Damascus found his revenue fall very short withouttheir interference; and as for the Divan, the Bessoes could always finda friend there if they chose. The awkwardness of the Syrian catastrophewas, that it was so sudden and so unexpected that there was then no timefor those satisfactory explanations which afterwards took place betweenAdam Besso and Riza. 

Though the situation of Besso remained, therefore, unchanged after thesubsidence of the Syrian agitation, the same circumstance could not bepredicated of the position of his foster-child. Fakredeen possessedall the qualities of the genuine Syrian character in excess; vain, susceptible, endowed with a brilliant though frothy imagination, and alove of action so unrestrained that restlessness deprived it of energy, with so fine a taste that he was always capricious, and so ingeniousthat he seemed ever inconsistent. His ambition was as high as hisapprehension was quick. He saw everything and understood everybody ina flash; and believed that everything that was said or done ought tobe made to contribute to his fortunes. Educated in the sweet order, andamid the decorous virtues of the roof of Besso, Fakredeen, who, from hissusceptibility, took the colour of his companions, even when he thoughtthey were his tools, had figured for ten years as a soft-hearted andsomewhat timid child, dependent on kind words, and returning kindnesswith a passionate affection. 

His change to the palace of his uncle developed his native qualities, which, under any accidents, could not perhaps have been long restrained, but which the circumstances of the times brought to light, and maturedwith a celerity peculiar to the East. The character of Fakredeen wasformed amid the excitement of the Syrian invasion and its stirringconsequences. At ten years of age he was initiated in all the mysteriesof political intrigue. His startling vivacity and the keen relish of hisinfant intelligence for all the passionate interests of men amused andsometimes delighted his uncle. Everything was spoken before him; helived in the centre of intrigues which were to shake thrones, andperhaps to form them. He became habituated to the idea that everythingcould be achieved by dexterity, and that there was no test of conductexcept success. To dissemble and to simulate; to conduct confidentialnegotiations with contending powers and parties at the same time; to beready to adopt any opinion and to possess none; to fall into the publichumour of the moment, and to evade the impending catastrophe; to lookupon every man as a tool, and never do anything which had not a definitethough circuitous purpose; these were his political accomplishments;and, while he recognised them as the best means of success, he foundin their exercise excitement and delight. To be the centre of a maze ofmanoeuvres was his empyrean. He was never without a resource. 

Stratagems came to him as naturally as fruit comes to a tree. He livedin a labyrinth of plans, and he rejoiced to involve some one in theperplexities which his magic touch could alone unravel. Fakredeen hadno principle of any kind; he had not a prejudice; a little superstition, perhaps, like his postponing his journey because a hare crossed hispath. But, as for life and conduct in general, forming his opinionsfrom the great men of whom he had experience, princes, pashas, and someothers, and from the great transactions with which he was connected, he was convinced that all was a matter of force or fraud. Fakredeenpreferred the latter, because it was more ingenious, and because he wasof a kind and passionate temperament, loving beauty and the beautiful, apt to idealise everything, and of too exquisite a taste not to shrinkwith horror from an unnecessary massacre. 

Though it was his profession and his pride to simulate and to dissemble, he had a native ingenuousness which was extremely awkward and verysurprising, for, the moment he was intimate with you, he told youeverything. Though he intended to make a person his tool, and oftensucceeded, such was his susceptibility, and so strong were hissympathetic qualities, that he was perpetually, without being aware ofit, showing his cards. The victim thought himself safe, but the teemingresources of Fakredeen were never wanting, and some fresh and brilliantcombination, as he styled it, often secured the prey which so heedlesslyhe had nearly forfeited. Recklessness with him was a principle ofaction. He trusted always to his fertile expedients if he failed, andran the risk in the meanwhile of paramount success, the fortune of thosewho are entitled to be rash. With all his audacity, which was nearlyequal to his craft, he had no moral courage; and, if affairs went wrong, and, from some accident, exhaustion of the nervous system, the weather, or some of those slight causes which occasionally paralyse the creativemind, he felt without a combination, he would begin to cry like achild, and was capable of any action, however base and humiliating, toextricate himself from the impending disaster. 

Fakredeen had been too young to have fatally committed himself duringthe Egyptian occupation. The moment he found that the Emir Bescheer andhis sons were prisoners at Constantinople, he returned to Syria, livedquietly at his own castle, affected popularity among the neighbouringchieftains, who were pleased to see a Shehaab among them, and showedhimself on every occasion a most loyal subject of the Porte. Atseventeen years of age, Fakredeen was at the head of a powerful party, and had opened relations with the Divan. The Porte looked upon him withconfidence, and although they intended, if possible, to govern Lebanonin future themselves, a young prince of a great house, and a youngprince so perfectly free from all disagreeable antecedents, was not tobe treated lightly. All the leaders of all the parties of the mountainfrequented the castle of Fakredeen, and each secretly believed that theprince was his pupil and his tool. There was not one of these men, grey though some of them were in years and craft, whom the innocent andingenuous Fakredeen did not bend as a nose of wax, and, when Adam Bessoreturned to Syria in '43, he found his foster-child by far the mostconsiderable person in the country, and all parties amid their doubtsand distractions looking up to him with hope and confidence. He was thennineteen years of age, and Eva was sixteen. Fakredeen came instantlyto Damascus to welcome them, hugged Besso, wept like a child over hissister, sat up the whole night on the terrace of their house smokinghis nargileh, and telling them all his secrets without the slightestreserve: the most shameful actions of his career as well as the mostbrilliant; and finally proposed to Besso to raise a loan for theLebanon, ostensibly to promote the cultivation of mulberries, really tosupply arms to the discontented population who were to make Fakredeenand Eva sovereigns of the mountain. It will have been observed, that tosupply the partially disarmed tribes of the mountain with weapons wasstill, though at intervals, the great project of Fakredeen, and toobtain the result in his present destitution of resources involvedhim in endless stratagems. His success would at the same time bind thetribes, already well affected to him, with unalterable devotion to achief capable of such an undeniable act of sovereignty, and of courserender them proportionately more efficient instruments in accomplishinghis purpose. It was the interest of Fakredeen that the Lebanon should bepowerful and disturbed. 

Besso, who had often befriended him, and who had frequently rescuedhim from the usurers of Beiroot and Sidon, lent a cold ear to thesesuggestions. The great merchant was not inclined again to embark ina political career, or pass another three or four years away from hisSyrian palaces and gardens. He had seen the most powerful head that theEast had produced for a century, backed by vast means, and after havingapparently accomplished his purpose, ultimately recoil before thesuperstitious fears of Christendom, lest any change in Syria shouldprecipitate the solution of the great Eastern problem. He could notbelieve that it was reserved for Fakredeen to succeed in that which hadbaffled Mehemet Ali. 

Eva took the more sanguine view that becomes youth and woman. She hadfaith in Fakredeen. Though his position was not as powerful as that ofthe great viceroy, it was, in her opinion, more legitimate. He seemedindicated as the natural ruler of the mountain. She had faith, too, in his Arabian origin. With Eva, what is called society assumed thecharacter of a continual struggle between Asia and the North. Shedreaded the idea that, after having escaped the crusaders, Syria shouldfall first under the protection, and then the colonisation of someEuropean power. A link was wanted in the chain of resistance whichconnected the ranges of Caucasus with the Atlas. She idealised herfoster-brother into a hero, and saw his standard on Mount Lebanon, thebeacon of the oriental races, like the spear of Shami, or the pavilionof Abd-el-Kader. Eva had often influenced her father for the advantageof Fakredeen, but at last even Eva felt that she should sue in vain. 

A year before, involved in difficulties which it seemed no combinationcould control, and having nearly occasioned the occupation of Syria bya united French and English force, Fakredeen burst out a-cry-ing likea little boy, and came whimpering to Eva, as if somebody had broken histoy or given him a beating. Then it was that Eva had obtained for hima final assistance from her father, the condition being, that thisapplication should be the last. 

Eva had given him jewels, had interested other members of her familyin his behalf, and effected for him a thousand services, which onlya kind-hearted and quick-witted woman could devise. While Fakredeenplundered her without scruple and used her without remorse, he doted onher; he held her intellect in absolute reverence; a word from her guidedhim; a look of displeasure, and his heart ached. As long as he was underthe influence of her presence, he really had no will, scarcely an ideaof his own. He spoke only to elicit her feelings and opinions. He had asuperstition that she was born under a fortunate star, and that itwas fatal to go counter to her. But the moment he was away, he woulddisobey, deceive, and, if necessary, betray her, loving her the same allthe time. But what was to be expected from one whose impressions wereequally quick and vivid, who felt so much for himself, and so muchfor others, that his life seemed a perpetual re-action between intenseselfishness and morbid sensibility?

Had Fakredeen married Eva, the union might have given him somesteadiness of character, or at least its semblance. The young Emir hadgreatly desired this alliance, not for the moral purpose that we haveintimated, not even from love of Eva, for he was totally insensibleto domestic joys, but because he wished to connect himself with greatcapitalists, and hoped to gain the Lebanon loan for a dower. But thisalliance was quite out of the question. The hand of Eva was destined, according to the custom of the family, for her cousin, the eldest son ofBesso of Aleppo. The engagement had been entered into while she was atVienna, and it was then agreed that the marriage should take place soonafter she had completed her eighteenth year. The ceremony was thereforeat hand; it was to occur within a few months. 

Accustomed from an early period of life to the contemplation of thisunion, it assumed in the eyes of Eva a character as natural as that ofbirth or death. It never entered her head to ask herself whether sheliked or disliked it. It was one of those inevitable things of which weare always conscious, yet of which we never think, like the years of ourlife or the colour of our hair. Had her destiny been in her own hands, it is probable that she would not have shared it with Fakredeen, for shehad never for an instant entertained the wish that there should be anychange in the relations which subsisted between them. According to thecustom of the country, it was to Besso that Fakredeen had expressed hiswishes and his hopes. The young Emir made liberal offers: his wife andchildren might follow any religion they pleased; nay, he was even readyto conform himself to any which they fixed upon. He attempted todazzle Besso with the prospect of a Hebrew Prince of the Mountains. 'Mydaughter, ' said the merchant, 'would certainly, under any circumstances, marry one of her own faith; but we need not say another word about it;she is betrothed, and has been engaged for some years, to her cousin. '

When Fakredeen, during his recent visit to Bethany, found that Eva, notwithstanding her Bedouin blood, received his proposition forkidnapping a young English nobleman with the utmost alarm and evenhorror, he immediately relinquished it, diverted her mind from thecontemplation of a project on her disapproval of which, notwithstandinghis efforts at distraction, she seemed strangely to dwell, and finallypresented her with a new and more innocent scheme in which he requiredher assistance. According to Fakredeen, his new English acquaintanceat Beiroot, whom he had before quoted, was ready to assist him in thefulfilment of his contract, provided he could obtain sufficient timefrom Scheriff Effendi; and what he wished Eva to do was personally torequest the Egyptian merchant to grant time for this indulgence. Thisdid not seem to Eva an unreasonable favour for her foster-brotherto obtain, though she could easily comprehend why his previousirregularities might render him an unsuccessful suitor to his creditor. Glad that it was still in her power in some degree to assist him, andthat his present project was at least a harmless one, Eva offered thenext day to repair to the city and see Scheriff Effendi on his business. Pressing her hand to his heart, and saluting her with a thousandendearing names, the Emir quitted the Rose of Sharon with the tears inhis grateful eyes. 

Now the exact position of Fakredeen was this: he had induced theEgyptian merchant to execute the contract for him by an assurance thatBesso would be his security for the venture, although the peculiarnature of the transaction rendered it impossible for Besso, in hispresent delicate position, personally to interfere in it. To keep upappearances, Fakredeen, with his usual audacious craft, had appointedScheriff Effendi to meet him at Jerusalem, at the house of Besso, forthe completion of the contract; and accordingly, on the afternoon of theday preceding his visit to Bethany, Fakredeen had arrived at Jerusalemwithout money, and without credit, in order to purchase arms for aprovince. 

The greatness of the conjuncture, the delightful climate, his sanguinetemperament, combined, however, to sustain him. As he traversed hisdelicious mountains, with their terraces of mulberries, and olives, andvines, lounged occasionally for a short time at the towns on the coast, and looked in at some of his creditors to chatter charming delusions, or feel his way for a new combination most necessary at this moment, his blood was quick and his brain creative; and although he had riddennearly two hundred miles when he arrived at the 'Holy City, ' he wasfresh and full of faith that 'something would turn up. ' His Egyptianfriend, awfully punctual, was the first figure that welcomed him ashe entered the divan of Besso, where the young Emir remained in theposition which we have described, smoking interminable nargilehs whilehe revolved his affairs, until the conversation respecting the arrivalof Tancred roused him from his brooding meditation. 

It was not difficult to avoid Scheriff Effendi for a while. Thefollowing morning, Fakredeen passed half a dozen hours at the bath, andthen made his visit to Eva with the plot which had occurred to him thenight before at the divan, and which had been matured this day whilethey were shampooing him. The moment that, baffled, he again arrived atJerusalem, he sought his Egyptian merchant, and thus addressed him: 'Yousee, Effendi, that you must not talk on this business to Besso, nor canBesso talk to you about it. '

'Good!' said the Effendi. 

'But, if it be managed by another person to your satisfaction, it willbe as well. '

'One grain is like another. '

'It will be managed by another person to your satisfaction. '

'Good!'

'The Rose of Sharon is the same in this business as her father?'

'He is a ruby and she is a pearl. '

'The Rose of Sharon will see you to-morrow about this business. '

'Good!'

'The Rose of Sharon may ask you for time to settle everything; shehas to communicate with other places. You have heard of such a city asAleppo?'

'If Damascus be an eye, Aleppo is an ear. '

'Don't trouble the Rose of Sharon, Effendi, with any details if shespeaks to you; but be content with all she proposes. She will ask, perhaps, for three months; women are nervous; they think robbers mayseize the money on its way, or the key of the chest may not be foundwhen it is wanted; you understand? Agree to what she proposes; but, between ourselves, I will meet you at Gaza on the day of the new moon, and it is finished. '

'Good. '

Faithful to her promise, at an early hour of the morrow, Eva, wrappedin a huge and hooded Arab cloak, so that her form could not in theslightest degree be traced, her face covered with a black Arab mask, mounted her horse; her two female attendants, habited in the samemanner, followed their mistress; before whom marched her janissaryarmed to the teeth, while four Arab grooms walked on each side of thecavalcade. In this way, they entered Jerusalem by the gate of Sion, andproceeded to the house of Besso. Fakredeen watched her arrival. He wasin due time summoned to her presence, where he learned the success ofher mission. 

'Scheriff Effendi, ' she said, 'has agreed to keep the arms for threemonths, you paying the usual rate of interest on the money. This is butjust. May your new friend at Beiroot be more powerful than I am, and asfaithful!'

'Beautiful Rose of Sharon! who can be like you! You inspire me; youalways do. I feel persuaded that I shall get the money long before thetime has elapsed. ' And, so saying, he bade her farewell, to return, ashe said, without loss of time to Beiroot. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

 _Capture of the New Crusader_

THE dawn was about to break in a cloudless sky, when Tancred, accompanied by Baroni and two servants, all well armed and well mounted, and by Hassan, a sheikh of the Jellaheen Bedouins, tall and grave, witha long spear tufted with ostrich feathers in his hand, his musket slungat his back, and a scimitar at his side, quitted Jerusalem by the gateof Bethlehem. 

If it were only to see the sun rise, or to become acquainted with natureat hours excluded from the experience of civilisation, it were worthwhile to be a traveller. There is something especially in the hour thatprecedes a Syrian dawn, which invigorates the frame and elevates thespirit. One cannot help fancying that angels may have been resting onthe mountain tops during the night, the air is so sweet and the earthso still. Nor, when it wakes, does it wake to the maddening cares ofEurope. The beauty of a patriarchal repose still lingers about itsexistence in spite of its degradation. Notwithstanding all they havesuffered during the European development, the manners of the Asiaticraces generally are more in harmony with nature than the complicatedconventionalisms which harass their fatal rival, and which haveincreased in exact proportion as the Europeans have seceded from thoseArabian and Syrian creeds that redeemed them from their primitivebarbarism. 

But the light breaks, the rising beam falls on the gazelles stillbounding on the hills of Judah, and gladdens the partridge which stillcalls among the ravines, as it did in the days of the prophets. Abouthalf-way between Jerusalem and Bethlehem, Tancred and his companionshalted at the tomb of Rachel: here awaited them a chosen band of twentystout Jellaheens, the subjects of Sheikh Hassan, their escort throughthe wildernesses of Arabia Petræa. The fringed and ribbed kerchief ofthe desert, which must be distinguished from the turban, and is wovenby their own women from the hair of the camel, covered the heads of theBedouins; a short white gown, also of home manufacture, and very rude, with a belt of cords, completed, with slippers, their costume. 

Each man bore a musket and a dagger. 

It was Baroni who had made the arrangement with Sheikh Hassan. Baronihad long known him as a brave and faithful Arab. In general, thesecontracts with the Bedouins for convoy through the desert are made byFranks through their respective consuls, but Tancred was not sorry tobe saved from the necessity of such an application, as it would haveexcited the attention of Colonel Brace, who passed his life at theBritish Consulate, and who probably would have thought it necessary toput on the uniform of the Bellamont yeomanry cavalry, and have attendedthe heir of Montacute to Mount Sinai. Tancred shuddered at the idea ofthe presence of such a being at such a place, with his large ruddy face, his swaggering, sweltering figure, his flourishing whiskers, and his fathands. 

It was the fifth morn after the visit of Tancred to Bethany, of whichhe had said nothing to Baroni, the only person at his command who couldafford or obtain any information as to the name and quality of herwith whom he had there so singularly become acquainted. He was far fromincurious on the subject; all that he had seen and all that he had heardat Bethany greatly interested him. But the reserve which ever controlledhim, unless under the influence of great excitement, a reserve which wasthe result of pride and not of caution, would probably have checked anyexpression of his wishes on this head, even had he not been under theinfluence of those feelings which now absorbed him. A human being, animated by the hope, almost by the conviction, that a celestialcommunication is impending over his destiny, moves in a supernal sphere, which no earthly consideration can enter. The long musings of his voyagehad been succeeded on the part of Tancred, since his arrival in theHoly Land, by one unbroken and impassioned reverie, heightened, notdisturbed, by frequent and solitary prayer, by habitual fasts, and bythose exciting conferences with Alonza Lara, in which he had struggledto penetrate the great Asian mystery, reserved however, if indeed everexpounded, for a longer initiation than had yet been proved by the sonof the English noble. 

After a week of solitary preparation, during which he had interchangedno word, and maintained an abstinence which might have rivalled an olderemite of Engedi, Tancred had kneeled before that empty sepulchre ofthe divine Prince of the house of David, for which his ancestor, Tancred de Montacute, six hundred years before, had struggled withthose followers of Mahound, who, to the consternation and perplexity ofChristendom, continued to retain it. Christendom cares nothing forthat tomb now, has indeed forgotten its own name, and calls itselfenlightened Europe. But enlightened Europe is not happy. Its existenceis a fever, which it calls progress. Progress to what?

The youthful votary, during his vigils at the sacred tomb, had receivedsolace but not inspiration. No voice from heaven had yet sounded, buthis spirit was filled with the sanctity of the place, and he returned tohis cell to prepare for fresh pilgrimages. 

One day, in conference with Lara, the Spanish Prior had let drop thesewords: 'Sinai led to Calvary; it may be wise to trace your steps fromCalvary to Sinai. '

At this moment, Tancred and his escort are in sight of Bethlehem, withthe population of a village but the walls of a town, situate on aneminence overlooking a valley, which seems fertile after passing thestony plain of Rephaim. The first beams of the sun, too, were risingfrom the mountains of Arabia and resting on the noble convent of theNativity. 

From Bethlehem to Hebron, Canaan is still a land of milk and honey, though not so rich and picturesque as in the great expanse of Palestineto the north of the Holy City. The beauty and the abundance of thepromised land may still be found in Samaria and Galilee; in themagnificent plains of Esdraelon, Zabulon, and Gennesareth; and ever bythe gushing waters of the bowery Jordan. 

About an hour after leaving Bethlehem, in a secluded valley, is one ofthe few remaining public works of the great Hebrew Kings, It is in everyrespect worthy of them. I speak of those colossal reservoirs cut outof the native rock and fed by a single spring, discharging their watersinto an aqueduct of perforated stone, which, until a comparativelyrecent period, still conveyed them to Jerusalem. They are three innumber, of varying lengths from five to six hundred feet, and almostas broad; their depth, still undiscovered. They communicate with eachother, so that the water of the uppermost reservoir, flowing through theintermediate one, reached the third, which fed the aqueduct. They arelined with a hard cement like that which coats the pyramids, and whichremains uninjured; and it appears that hanging gardens once surroundedthem. The Arabs still call these reservoirs the pools of Solomon, nor isthere any reason to doubt the tradition. Tradition, perhaps often morefaithful than written documents, is a sure and almost infallible guidein the minds of the people where there has been no complicated varietyof historic incidents to confuse and break the chain of memory; wheretheir rare revolutions have consisted of an eruption once in a thousandyears into the cultivated world; where society has never been brokenup, but their domestic manners have remained the same; where, too, theyrevere truth, and are rigid in its oral delivery, since that is theironly means of disseminating knowledge. 

There is no reason to doubt that these reservoirs were the worksof Solomon. This secluded valley, then, was once the scene of hisimaginative and delicious life. Here were his pleasure gardens; theseslopes were covered with his fantastic terraces, and the high placesglittered with his pavilions. The fountain that supplied these treasuredwaters was perhaps the 'sealed fountain, ' to which he compared hisbride; and here was the garden palace where the charming Queen of Shebavainly expected to pose the wisdom of Israel, as she held at a distancebefore the most dexterous of men the two garlands of flowers, alike inform and colour, and asked the great king, before his trembling court, to decide which of the wreaths was the real one. 

They are gone, they are vanished, these deeds of beauty and these wordsof wit! The bright and glorious gardens of the tiaraed poet and theroyal sage, that once echoed with his lyric voice, or with the startlingtruths of his pregnant aphorisms, end in this wild and solitary valley, in which with folded arms and musing eye of long abstraction, Tancredhalts in his ardent pilgrimage, nor can refrain from asking himself, 'Can it, then, be true that all is vanity?'

Why, what, is this desolation? Why are there no more kings whose wordsare the treasured wisdom of countless ages, and the mention of whosename to this moment thrills the heart of the Oriental, from the waves ofthe midland ocean to the broad rivers of the farthest Ind? Why are thereno longer bright-witted queens to step out of their Arabian palacesand pay visits to the gorgeous 'house of the forest of Lebanon, ' orto where Baalbec, or Tadmor in the wilderness, rose on those plains nowstrewn with the superb relics of their inimitable magnificence?

And yet some flat-nosed Frank, full of bustle and puffed up withself-conceit (a race spawned perhaps in the morasses of some Northernforest hardly yet cleared), talks of Progress! Progress to what, andfrom whence? Amid empires shrivelled into deserts, amid the wrecks ofgreat cities, a single column or obelisk of which nations import forthe prime ornament of their mud-built capitals, amid arts forgotten, commerce annihilated, fragmentary literatures and populations destroyed, the European talks of progress, because, by an ingenious applicationof some scientific acquirements, he has established a society which hasmistaken comfort for civilisation. 

The soft beam of the declining sun fell upon a serene landscape; gentleundulations covered with rich shrubs or highly cultivated corn-fieldsand olive groves; sometimes numerous flocks; and then vineyardsfortified with walls and with watch-towers, as in the time of David, whose city Tancred was approaching. Hebron, too, was the home of thegreat Sheikh Abraham; and the Arabs here possess his tomb, which noChristian is permitted to visit. It is strange and touching, that thechildren of Ishmael should have treated the name and memory ofthe Sheikh Abraham with so much reverence and affection. But thecircumstance that he was the friend of Allah appears with them entirelyto have outweighed the recollection of his harsh treatment of theirgreat progenitor. Hebron has even lost with them its ancient Judæanname, and they always call it, in honour of the tomb of the Sheikh, the'City of a Friend. '

About an hour after Hebron, in a fair pasture, and near an olive grove, Tancred pitched his tent, prepared on the morrow to quit the land ofpromise, and approach that 'great and terrible wilderness where therewas no water. '

'The children of Israel, ' as they were called according to the customthen and now universally prevalent among the Arabian tribes (as, forexample, the Beni Kahtan, Beni Kelb, Beni Salem, Beni Sobh, Beni Ghamed, Beni Seydan, Beni Ali, Beni Hateym, all adopting for their descriptionthe name of their founder), the 'children of Israel' were originally atribe of Arabia Petrasa. Under the guidance of sheikhs of great ability, they emerged from their stony wilderness and settled on the Syrianborder. 

But they could not maintain themselves against the disciplined nationsof Palestine, and they fell back to their desert, which they foundintolerable. Like some of the Bedouin tribes of modern times in therocky wastes contiguous to the Red Sea, they were unable to resist thetemptations of the Egyptian cities; they left their free but distressfulwilderness, and became Fellaheen. The Pharaohs, however, made them payfor their ready means of sustenance, as Mehemet Ali has made the Arabsof our days who have quitted the desert to eat the harvests of the Nile. They enslaved them, and worked them as beasts of burden. But this wasnot to be long borne by a race whose chiefs in the early ages hadbeen favoured by Jehovah; the patriarch Emirs, who, issuing fromthe Caucasian cradle of the great races, spread over the plains ofMesopotamia, and disseminated their illustrious seed throughout theArabian wilderness. Their fiery imaginations brooded over the greattraditions of their tribe, and at length there arose among them one ofthose men whose existence is an epoch in the history of human nature:a great creative spirit and organising mind, in whom the facultiesof conception and of action are equally balanced and possessed in thehighest degree; in every respect a man of the complete Caucasian model, and almost as perfect as Adam when he was just finished and placed inEden. 

But Jehovah recognised in Moses a human instrument too rare merely tobe entrusted with the redemption of an Arabian tribe from a state ofFellaheen to Bedouin existence. And, therefore, he was summoned to bethe organ of an eternal revelation of the Divine will, and his tribewere appointed to be the hereditary ministers of that mighty andmysterious dispensation. 

It is to be noted, although the Omnipotent Creator might have found, hadit pleased him, in the humblest of his creations, an efficient agentfor his purpose, however difficult and sublime, that Divine Majesty hasnever thought fit to communicate except with human beings of the veryhighest powers. They are always men who have manifested an extraordinaryaptitude for great affairs, and the possession of a fervent andcommanding genius. They are great legislators, or great warriors, orgreat poets, or orators of the most vehement and impassioned spirit. Such were Moses, Joshua, the heroic youth of Hebron, and his magnificentson; such, too, was Isaiah, a man, humanly speaking, not inferior toDemosthenes, and struggling for a similar and as beautiful a cause, the independence of a small state, eminent for its intellectual power, against the barbarian grandeur of a military empire. All the greatthings have been done by the little nations. It is the Jordan and theIlyssus that have civilised the modern races. An Arabian tribe, a clanof the Ægean, have been the promulgators of all our knowledge; andwe should never have heard of the Pharaohs, of Babylon the great andNineveh the superb, of Cyrus and of Xerxes, had not it been for Athensand Jerusalem. 

Tancred rose with the sun from his encampment at Hebron, to traverse, probably, the same route pursued by the spies when they entered theLand of Promise. The transition from Canaan to the stony Arabia isnot abrupt. A range of hills separates Palestine from a high but levelcountry similar to the Syrian desert, sandy in some places, but coveredin all with grass and shrubs; a vast expanse of downs. Gradually theherbage disappears, and the shrubs are only found tufting the ridgy topsof low undulating sandhills. Soon the sand becomes stony, and no traceof vegetation is ever visible excepting occasionally some thorny plant. Then comes a land which alternates between plains of sand and dullranges of monotonous hills covered with loose flints; sometimes thepilgrim winds his way through their dull ravines, sometimes he mountsthe heights and beholds a prospect of interminable desolation. 

For three nights had Tancred encamped in this wilderness, halting atsome spot where they could find some desert shrubs that might serve asfood for the camels and fuel for themselves. His tent was soon pitched, the night fires soon crackling, and himself seated at one with theSheikh and Baroni, he beheld with interest and amusement the picturesqueand flashing groups around him. Their fare was scant and simple: breadbaked upon the spot, the dried tongue of a gazelle, the coffee of theneighbouring Mocha, and the pipe that ever consoles, if indeed thetraveller, whatever his hardships, could need any sustenance but his ownhigh thoughts in such a scene, canopied, too, by the most beautiful skyand the most delicious climate in the world. 

They were in the vicinity of Mount Seir; on the morrow they were tocommence the passage of the lofty range which stretches on to Sinai. TheSheikh, who had a feud with a neighbouring tribe, and had been anxiousand vigilant while they crossed the open country, riding on withan advanced guard before his charge, reconnoitring from sandhill tosandhill, often creeping up and lying on his breast, so as not to bevisible to the enemy, congratulated Tancred that all imminent danger waspast. 

'Not that I am afraid of them, ' said Hassan, proudly; 'but we must killthem or they will kill us. ' Hassan, though Sheikh of his own immediatefamily and followers, was dependent on the great Sheikh of the Jellaheentribe, and was bound to obey his commands in case the complete clan weresummoned to congregate in any particular part of the desert. 

[Illustration: page2-083]

On the morrow they commenced their passage of the mountains, and, afterclearing several ranges found themselves two hours after noon in adefile so strangely beautiful that to behold it would alone haverepaid all the exertions and perils of the expedition. It was formedby precipitous rocks of a picturesque shape and of great height, and ofcolours so brilliant and so blended that to imagine them you must fancythe richest sunset you have ever witnessed, and that would be inferior, from the inevitable defect of its fleeting character. Here the tints, sometimes vivid, sometimes shadowed down, were always equally fair:light blue heights, streaked, perhaps, with scarlet and shaded offto lilac or purple; a cleft of bright orange; a broad peach-colouredexpanse, veined in delicate circles and wavy lines of exquisite grace;sometimes yellow and purple stripes; sometimes an isolated steep ofevery hue flaming in the sun, and then, like a young queen on a gorgeousthrone, from a vast rock of crimson, and gold rose a milk-white summit. The frequent fissures of this defile were filled with rich woods ofoleander and shrubs of every shade of green, from which rose acacia, andother trees unknown to Tancred. Over all this was a deep and cloudlesssky, and through it a path winding amid a natural shrubbery, whichprinces would have built colossal conservatories to preserve. 

''Tis a scene of enchantment that has risen to mock us in the middle ofthe desert, ' exclaimed the enraptured pilgrim; 'surely it must vanisheven as we gaze!'

About half-way up the defile, when they had traversed it for about aquarter of an hour, Sheikh Hassan suddenly galloped forward and hurledhis spear with great force at an isolated crag, the base of whichwas covered with oleanders, and then looking back he shouted to hiscompanions. Tancred and the foremost hurried up to him. 

'Here are tracks of horses and camels that have entered the valley thusfar and not passed through it. They are fresh; let all be prepared. '

'We are twenty-five men well armed, ' said Baroni. 'It is not the Tyahasthat will attack such a band. '

'Nor are they the Gherashi or the Mezeines, ' said the Sheikh, 'for weknow what they are after, and we are brothers. '

'They must be Alouins, ' said an Arab. 

At this moment the little caravan was apparently land-locked, thedefile again winding; but presently it became quite straight, and itstermination was visible, though at a considerable distance. 

'I see horsemen, ' said the Sheikh; 'several of them advance; they arenot Alouins. '

He rode forward to meet them, accompanied by Tancred and Baroni. 

'Salaam, ' said the Sheikh, 'how is it?' and then he added, aside toBaroni, 'They are strangers; why are they here?'

'Aleikoum! We know where you come from, ' was the reply of one of thehorsemen. 'Is that the brother of the Queen of the English? Let himride with us, and you may go on in peace. '

'He is my brother, ' said Sheikh Hassan, 'and the brother of all here. There is no feud between us. Who are you?'

'We are children of Jethro, and the great Sheikh has sent us a long wayto give you salaam. Your desert here is not fit for the camel that yourProphet cursed. Come, let us finish our business, for we wish to see aplace where there are palm trees. '

'Are these children of Eblis?' said Sheikh Hassan to Baroni. 

'It is the day of judgment, ' said Baroni, looking pale; 'such a thinghas not happened in my time. I am lost. '

'What do these people say?' inquired Tancred. 

'There is but one God, ' said Sheikh Hassan, whose men had now reachedhim, 'and Mahomet is his Prophet. Stand aside, sons of Eblis, or youshall bite the earth which curses you!'

A wild shout from every height of the defile was the answer. They lookedup, they looked round; the crest of every steep was covered with armedArabs, each man with his musket levelled. 

'My lord, ' said Baroni, 'there is something hidden in all this. This isnot an ordinary desert foray. You are known, and this tribe comes from adistance to plunder you;' and then he rapidly detailed what had alreadypassed. 

'What is your force, sons of Eblis?' said the Sheikh to the horsemen. 

'Count your men, and your muskets, and your swords, and your horses, andyour camels; and if they were all double, they would not be our force. Our great Sheikh would have come in person with ten thousand men, werenot your wilderness here fit only for Giaours. '

'Tell the young chief, ' said the Sheikh to Baroni, 'that I am hisbrother, and will shed the last drop of my blood in his service, as I ambound to do, as much as he is bound to give me ten thousand piastres forthe journey, and ask him what he wishes. '

'Demand to know distinctly what these men want, ' said Tancred to Baroni, who then conferred with them. 

'They want your lordship, ' said Baroni, 'whom they call the brotherof the Queen of the English; their business is clearly to carry you totheir great Sheikh, who will release you for a large ransom. '

'And they have no feud with the Jellaheens?'

'None; they are strangers; they come from a distance for this purpose;nor can it be doubted that this plan has been concocted at Jerusalem. '

'Our position, I fear, is fatal in this defile, ' said Tancred; 'itis bitter to be the cause of exposing so many brave men to almostinevitable slaughter. Tell them, Baroni, that I am not the brother ofthe Queen of the English; that they are ridiculously misled, and thattheir aim is hopeless, for all that will be ransomed will be my corpse. '

Sheikh Hassan sat on his horse like a statue, with his spear in his handand his eye on his enemy; Baroni, advancing to the strange horsemen, whowere in position about ten yards from Tancred and his guardian, was soonengaged in animated conversation. He did all that an able diplomatistcould effect; told lies with admirable grace, and made a hundredpropositions that did not commit his principal. He assured them veryheartily that Tancred was not the brother of the Queen of the English;that he was only a young Sheikh, whose father was alive, and inpossession of all the flocks and herds, camels and horses; that he hadquarrelled with his father; that his father, perhaps, would not be sorryif he were got rid of, and would not give a hundred piastres to save hislife. Then he offered, if he would let Tancred pass, himself to go withthem as prisoner to their great Sheikh, and even proposed Hassan andhalf his men for additional hostages, whilst some just and equitablearrangement could be effected. All, however, was in vain. The enemy hadno discretion; dead or alive, the young Englishman must be carried totheir chief. 

'I can do nothing, ' said Baroni, returning; 'there is something in allthis which I do not understand. It has never happened in my time. '

'There is, then, but one course to be taken, ' said Tancred; 'we mustcharge through the defile. At any rate we shall have the satisfaction ofdying like men. Let us each fix on our opponent. That audacious-lookingArab in a red kefia shall be my victim, or my destroyer. Speak to theSheikh, and tell him to prepare his men. Freeman and Trueman, ' saidTancred, looking round to his English servants, 'we are in extremeperil; I took you from your homes; if we outlive this day, and return toMontacute, you shall live on your own land. '

'Never mind us, my lord: if it wern't for those rocks we would beatthese niggers. '

'Are you all ready?' said Tancred to Baroni. 

'We are all ready. '

'Then I commend my soul to Jesus Christ, and to the God of Sinai, inwhose cause I perish. ' So saying, Tancred shot the Arab in the red kefiathrough the head, and with his remaining pistol disabled another of theenemy. This he did, while he and his band were charging, so suddenly andso boldly, that those immediately opposed to them were scattered. Therewas a continuous volley, however, from every part of the defile, and thescene was so involved in smoke that it was impossible for Tancred to seea yard around him; still he galloped on and felt conscious that he hadcompanions, though the shouting was so great that it was impossible tocommunicate. The smoke suddenly drifting, Tancred caught a glimpse ofhis position; he was at the mouth of the defile, followed by several ofhis men, whom he had not time to distinguish, and awaited by innumerablefoes. 

'Let us sell our lives dearly!' was all that he could exclaim. His swordfell from his wounded arm; his horse, stabbed underneath, sank with himto the ground. He was overpowered and bound. 'Every drop of his blood, 'exclaimed the leader of the strange Arabs, 'is worth ten thousandpiastres. '

CHAPTER XXX. 

 _Plans for Rescue_

THERE is Besso?' said Barizy of the Tower, as the Consul Pasqualigoentered the divan of the merchant, about ten days after the departure ofTancred from Jerusalem for Mount Sinai. 

'Where is Besso? I have already smoked two chibouques, and no one hasentered except yourself. I suppose you have heard the news?'

'Who has not? It is in every one's mouth. ' 'What have you heard?' askedBarizy of the Tower, with an air of malicious curiosity. 

'Some things that everybody knows, ' replied Pasqualigo, 'and some thingsthat nobody knows. '

'Hah, hah!' said Barizy of the Tower, pricking up his ears, andpreparing for one of those diplomatic encounters of mutual pumping, in which he and his rival were practised. 'I suppose you have seensomebody, eh?'

'Somebody has been seen, ' replied Pasqualigo, and then he busied himselfwith his pipe just arrived. 

'But nobody has seen somebody who was on the spot?' said Barizy. 

'It depends upon what you mean by the spot, ' replied Pasqualigo. 

'Your information is second-hand, ' observed Barizy. 

'But you acknowledge it is correct?' said Pasqualigo, more eagerly. 

'It depends upon whether your friend was present----' and here Barizyhesitated. 

'It does, ' said Pasqualigo. 

'Then he was present?' said Barizy. 

'He was. '

'Then he knows, ' said Barizy, eagerly, 'whether the young English princewas murdered intentionally or by hazard. '

'A--h, ' said Pasqualigo, whom not the slightest rumour of the affair hadyet reached, 'that is a great question. '

'But everything depends upon it, ' said Barizy. 'If he was killedaccidentally, there will be negotiations, but the business willbe compromised; the English want Cyprus, and they will take it ascompensation. If it is an affair of malice prepense, there will be war, for the laws of England require war if blood royal be spilt. '

The Consul Pasqualigo looked very grave; then, withdrawing his lips fora moment from his amber mouthpiece, he observed, 'It is a crisis. '

'It will be a crisis, ' said Barizy of the Tower, excited by findinghis rival a listener, 'but not for a long time. The crisis has notcommenced. The first question is: to whom does the desert belong; to thePorte, or to the Viceroy?'

'It depends upon what part of the desert is in question, ' saidPasqualigo. 

'Of course the part where it took place. I say the Arabian desertbelongs to the Viceroy; my cousin, Barizy of the Gate, says "No, itbelongs to the Porte. " Raphael Tafna says it belongs to neither. TheBedouins are independent. '

'But they are not recognised, ' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 'Withouta diplomatic existence, they are nullities. England will hold all therecognise powers in the vicinity responsible. You will see! The murderof an English prince, under such circumstances too, will not passunavenged. The whole of the Turkish garrison of the city will march outdirectly into the desert. '

'The Arabs care shroff for your Turkish garrison of the city, ' saidBarizy, with great derision. 

'They are eight hundred strong, ' said Pasqualigo. 

'Eight hundred weak, you mean. No, as Raphael Tafna was saying, whenMehemet. Ali was master, the tribes were quiet enough. But the Turkscould never manage the Arabs, even in their best days. If the Pasha ofDamascus were to go himself, the Bedouins would unveil his harem whilehe was smoking his nargileh. '

'Then England will call upon the Egyptians, ' said the Consul. 

'Hah!' said Barizy of the Tower, 'have I got you at last? Now comesyour crisis, I grant you. The English will send a ship of war with aprotocol, and one of their lords who is a sailor: that is the way. Theywill call upon the pasha to exterminate the tribe who have murdered thebrother of their queen; the pasha will reply, that when he was in Syriathe brothers of queens were never murdered, and put the protocol in histurban. This will never satisfy Palmerston; he will order----'

'Palmerston has nothing to do with it, ' screamed out Pasqualigo; 'he isno longer Reis Effendi; he is in exile; he is governor of the Isle ofWight. '

'Do you think I do not know that?' said Barizy of the Tower; 'but hewill be recalled for this purpose. The English will not go to war inSyria without Palmerston. Palmerston will have the command of the fleetas well as of the army, that no one shall say "No" when he says "Yes. "The English will not do the business of the Turks again for nothing. They will take this city; they will keep it. They want a new market fortheir cottons. Mark me: England will never be satisfied till the peopleof Jerusalem wear calico turbans. '

Let us inquire also with Barizy of the Tower, where was Besso? Alone inhis private chamber, agitated and troubled, awaiting the return ofhis daughter from the bath; and even now, the arrival may be heard ofherself and her attendants in the inner court. 

'You want me, my father?' said Eva, as she entered. 'Ah! you aredisturbed. What has happened?'

'The tenth plague of Pharaoh, my child, ' replied Besso, in a tone ofgreat vexation. 'Since the expulsion of Ibrahim, there has been nothingwhich has crossed me so much. '

'Fakredeen?'

'No, no; 'tis nothing to do with him, poor boy; but of one as young, andwhose interests, though I know him not, scarcely less concern me. '

'You know him not; 'tis not then my cousin. You perplex me, my father. Tell me at once. '

'It is the most vexatious of all conceivable occurrences, ' repliedBesso, 'and yet it is about a person of whom you never heard, and whomI never saw; and yet there are circumstances connected with him. Alas!alas! you must know, my Eva, there is a young Englishman here, and ayoung English lord, of one of their princely families----'

'Yes!' said Eva, in a subdued but earnest tone. 

'He brought me a letter from the best and greatest of men, ' said Besso, with much emotion, 'to whom I, to whom we, owe everything: our fortunes, our presence here, perhaps our lives. There was nothing which I was notbound to do for him, which I was not ready and prepared to do. I oughtto have guarded over him; to have forced my services on his acceptance;I blame myself now when it is too late. But he sent me his letter bythe Intendant of his household, whom I knew. I was fearful to obtrudemyself. I learnt he was fanatically Christian, and thought perhaps hemight shrink from my acquaintance. '

'And what has happened?' inquired Eva, with an agitation which provedher sympathy with her father's sorrow. 

'He left the city some days ago to visit Sinai; well armed and properlyescorted. He has been waylaid in the wilderness and captured after abloody struggle. '

'A bloody struggle?'

'Yes; they of course would gladly not have fought, but, though entrappedinto an ambush, the young Englishman would not yield, but fought withdesperation. His assailants have suffered considerably; his ownparty comparatively little, for they were so placed; surrounded, you understand, in a mountain defile, that they might have been allmassacred, but the fear of destroying their prize restrained at firstthe marksmen on the heights; and, by a daring and violent charge, the young Englishman and his followers forced the pass, but they wereoverpowered by numbers. '

'And he wounded?'

'I hope not severely. But you have heard nothing. They have sent hisIntendant to Jerusalem with a guard of Arabs to bring back his ransom. What do you think they want?'

Eva signified her inability to conjecture. 

'Two millions of piastres!'

'Two millions of piastres! Did you say two? 'Tis a great sum; but wemight negotiate. They would accept less, perhaps much less, than twomillions of piastres. '

'If it were four millions of piastres, I must pay it, ' said Besso. ''Tisnot the sum alone that so crosses me. The father of this young nobleis a great prince, and could doubtless pay, without serious injury tohimself, two millions of piastres for the ransom of his son; but that'snot it. He comes here; he is sent to me. I was to care for him, thinkfor him, guard over him: I have never even seen him; and he is wounded, plundered, and a prisoner!'

'But if he avoided you, my father?' murmured Eva, with her eyes fixedupon the ground. 

'Avoided me!' said Besso; 'he never thought of me but as of a Jewbanker, to whom he would send his servant for money when he needed it. Was I to stand on punctilios with a great Christian noble? I ought tohave waited at his gate every day when he came forth, and bowed to theearth, until it pleased him to notice me; I ought----'

'No, no, no, my father! you are bitter. This youth is not such as youthink; at least, in all probability is not, ' said Eva. 'You hear he isfanatically Christian; he may be but deeply religious, and his thoughtsat this moment may rest on other things than the business of the world. He who makes pilgrimage to Sinai can scarcely think us so vile as youwould intimate. '

'What will he think of those whom he is among? Here is the wound, Eva!Guess, then, child, who has shot this arrow. 'Tis my father!'

'O traitor! traitor!' said Eva, quickly covering her face with herhands. 'My terror was prophetic! There is none so base!'

'Nay, nay, ' said Besso; 'these, indeed, are women's words. The greatSheikh in this has touched me nearly, but I see no baseness in it. Hecould not know the intimate relation that should subsist between me andthis young Englishman. He has captured him in the desert, according tothe custom of his tribe. Much as Amalek may injure me, I must acquit himof treason and of baseness. '

'Yes, yes, ' said Eva, with an abstracted air. 'You misconceive me. I wasthinking of others; and what do you purpose, my father?'

'First, to clear myself of the deep stain that I now feel upon my life, 'said Besso. 'This Englishman comes to Jerusalem with an unboundedcredit on my house: he visits the wilderness, and is made prisoner by myfather-in-law, who is in ambush in a part of the desert which his tribenever frequents, and who sends to me for a princely ransom for hiscaptive. 

These are the apparent circumstances. These are the facts. There isbut one inference from them. I dare say 'tis drawn already by all thegossips of the city: they are hard at it, I doubt not, at this moment, in my own divan, winking their eyes and shrugging their shoulders, while they are smoking my choice tobacco, and drinking my sherbet ofpomegranate. And can I blame them?'

'A pure conscience may defy city gossips. '

'A pure conscience must pay the ransom out of my own coffers. I am notover fond of paying two millions of piastres, or even half, for onewhose shadow never fell upon my threshold. And yet I must do it: do itfor my father-in-law, the Sheikh of the Recha-bites, whose peace Imade with Mehemet Ali, for whom I gained the guardianship of theMecca caravan through the Syrian desert for five years, who has twelvethousand camels which he made by that office. Oh, were it not for you, my daughter, I would curse the hour that I ever mixed my blood with thechildren of Jethro. After all, if the truth were known, they are sons ofIshmael. '

'No, no, dear father, say not such things. You will send to the greatSheikh; he will listen----'

'I send to the great Sheikh! You know not your grandfather, and you knownot me. The truth is, the Sheikh and myself mutually despise each other, and we have never met without parting in bitterness. No, no; I wouldrather pay the ransom myself than ask a favour of the great Sheikh. Buthow can I pay the ransom, even if I chose? This young Englishman is afiery youth: he will not yield even to an ambush and countless odds. Doyou think a man who charges through a defile crowned with matchlocks, and shoots men through the head, as I am told he did, in the name ofChrist, will owe his freedom to my Jewish charity? He will burn theTemple first. This young man has the sword of Gideon. You know little ofthe world, Eva, and nothing of young Englishmen. There is not a race soproud, so wilful, so rash, and so obstinate. They live in a misty clime, on raw meats, and wines of fire. They laugh at their fathers, and neversay a prayer. They pass their days in the chase, gaming, and all violentcourses. They have all the power of the State, and all its wealth; andwhen they can wring no more from their peasants, they plunder the kingsof India. ' 'But this young Englishman, you say, is pious?' said Eva. 

Ah! this young Englishman; why did he come here? What is Jerusalem tohim, or he to Jerusalem? His Intendant, himself a prisoner, waits here. I must see him; he is one of the people of my patron, which proves ourgreat friend's interest in this youth. O day thrice cursed! day of athousand evil eyes! day of a new captivity----'

'My father, my dear father, these bursts of grief do not become yourfame for wisdom. We must inquire, we must hold counsel. Let me see theIntendant of this English youth, and hear more than I have yet learnt. I cannot think that affairs are so hopeless as you paint them: I willbelieve that there is a spring near. '

CHAPTER XXXI. 

 _Parleyings_

IN AN almost circular valley, surrounded by mountains, Amalek, greatSheikh of the Rechabite Bedouins, after having crossed the peninsula ofPetrasa from the great Syrian desert, pitched his camp amid themagnificent ruins of an ancient Idumæan city. The pavilion of the chief, facing the sunset, was raised in the arena of an amphitheatre cut out ofthe solid rock and almost the whole of the seats of which were entire. The sides of the mountains were covered with excavated tombs andtemples, and, perhaps, dwelling-places; at any rate, many of them werenow occupied by human beings. Fragments of columns were lying about, andmasses of unknown walls. From a defile in the mountains issued a stream, which wound about in the plain, its waters almost hid, but its coursebeautifully indicated by the undulating shrubbery of oleanders, fig-trees, and willows. On one side of these, between the water and theamphitheatre, was a crescent of black tents, groups of horses, andcrouching camels. Over the whole scene the sunset threw a violet hue, while the moon, broad and white, floated over the opposite hills. 

The carpet of the great Sheikh was placed before his pavilion, and, seated on it alone, and smoking a chibouque of date wood, the patriarchruminated. He had no appearance of age, except from a snowy beard, whichwas very long: a wiry man, with an unwrinkled face; dark, regular, andnoble features, beautiful teeth. Over his head, a crimson kefia, ribbedand fringed with gold; his robe was of the same colour, and his bootswere of red leather; the chief of one of the great tribes, and said, when they were united, to be able to bring ten thousand horsemen intothe field. 

One at full gallop, with a long spear, at this moment darted from theravine, and, without stopping to answer several who addressed him, hurried across the plain, and did not halt until he reached the Sheikh. 

'Salaam, Sheikh of Sheikhs, it is done; the brother of the Queen of theEnglish is your slave. '

'Good!' said Sheikh Amalek, very gravely, and taking his pipe from hismouth. 'May your mother eat the hump of a young camel! When will they behere?'

'They will be the first shadows of the moon. ' 'Good! is the brother ofthe Queen with Sheikh Salem?'

'There is only one God: Sheikh Salem will never drink leban again, unless he drink it in Paradise. '

'Certainly, there is only one God. What! has he fallen asleep into thewell of Nummula?'

'No; but we have seen many evil eyes. Four hares crossed our path thismorning. Our salaam to the English prince was not a salaam of peace. Thebrother of the Queen of the English is no less than an Antar. He willfight, yea or nay; and he has shot Sheikh Salem through the head. '

'There is but one God, and His will be done. I have lost the apple ofmine eye. The Prince of the English is alive?'

'He is alive. '

'Good! camels shall be given to the widow of Sheikh Salem, and she shallbe married to a new husband. Are there other deeds of Gin?'

'One grape will not make a bunch, even though it be a great one. '

'Let truth always be spoken. Let your words flow as the rock of Moses. '

'There is only one God: if you call to Ibrahim-ben-Hassan, to MolgrabiTeuba, and Teuba-ben-Amin, they will not be roused from their sleep:there are also wounds. '

'Tell all the people there is only one God: it is the Sheikh of theJeilaheens that has done these deeds of Gin?'

'Let truth always be spoken; my words shall flow as the rock of Moses. The Sheikh of the Jeilaheens counselled the young man not to fight, butthe young man is a very Zatanai. Certainly there are many devils, butthere is no devil like a Frank in a round hat. '

The evening advanced; the white moon, that had only gleamed, nowglittered; the necks of the camels looked tall and silvery in its beam. The night-fires began to blaze, the lamps to twinkle in the crescent ofdark tents. There was a shout, a general stir, the heads of spears wereseen glistening in the ravine. They came; a winding line of warriors. Some, as they emerged into the plain, galloped forward and threw theirspears into the air; but the main body preserved an appearance ofdiscipline, and proceeded at a slow pace to the pavilion of the Sheikh. A body of horsemen came first; then warriors on dromedaries; SheikhHassan next, grave and erect as if nothing had happened, though he waswounded, and followed by his men, disarmed, though their chief retainedhis spear. Baroni followed. He was unhurt, and rode between twoBedouins, with whom he continually conversed. After them, the bodies ofSheikh Salem and his comrades, covered with cloaks and stowed on camels. And then came the great prize, Tancred, mounted on a dromedary, hisright arm bound up in a sling which Baroni had hastily made, andsurrounded and followed by a large troop of horsemen, who treated himwith the highest consideration, not only because he was a great prince, whose ransom could bring many camels to their tribe, but because he hadshown those feats of valour which the wild desert honours. 

Notwithstanding his wound, which, though slight, began to be painful, and the extreme vexation of the whole affair, Tancred could not beinsensible to the strange beauty of the scene which welcomed him. Hehad read of these deserted cities, carved out of the rocks of thewilderness, and once the capitals of flourishing and abounding kingdoms. 

They stopped before the pavilion of the great Sheikh; the arena of theamphitheatre became filled with camels, horses, groups of warriors; manymounted on the seats, that they might overlook the scene, their arms andshawled heads glistening in the silver blaze of the moon or the ruddyflames of the watch-fires. They assisted Tancred to descend, theyushered him with courtesy to their chief, who made room for Tancred onhis own carpet, and motioned that he should be seated by his side. Asmall carpet was placed for Sheikh Hassan, and another for Baroni. 

'Salaam, brother of many queens, all that you see is yours; SalaamSheikh Hassan, we are brothers. Salaam, ' added Amalek, looking atBaroni, 'they tell me that you can speak our language, which isbeautiful as the moon and many palm trees; tell the prince, brother ofmany queens, that he mistook the message that I sent him this morning, which was an invitation to a feast, not to a war. Tell him we arebrothers. '

'Tell the Sheikh, ' said Tancred, 'that I have no appetite for feasting, and desire to be informed why he has made me a prisoner. '

'Tell the prince, brother of many queens, that he is not a prisoner, buta guest. '

'Ask the Sheikh, then, whether we can depart at once. '

'Tell the prince, brother of many queens, that it would be rude in me tolet him depart to-night. '

'Ask the Sheikh whether I may depart in the morning. '

'Tell the prince that, when the morning comes, he will find I am hisbrother. ' So saying, the great Sheikh took his pipe from his mouth andgave it to Tancred: the greatest of distinctions. In a few moments, pipes were also brought to Sheikh Hassan and Baroni. 

'No harm can come to you, my lord, after smoking that pipe, ' saidBaroni. 'We must make the best of affairs. I have been in worse straitswith M. De Sidonia. What think you of Malay pirates? These are allgentlemen. '

While Baroni was speaking, a young man slowly and with dignity passedthrough the bystanders, advanced, and, looking very earnestly atTancred, seated himself on the same carpet as the grand Sheikh. Thisaction alone would have betokened the quality of the newcomer, had nothis kefia, similar to that of Sheikh Amalek, and his whole bearing, clearly denoted his princely character. He was very young; andTancred, while he was struck by his earnest gaze, was attracted byhis physiognomy, which, indeed, from its refined beauty and cast ofimpassioned intelligence, was highly interesting. 

Preparations all this time had been making for the feast. Half a dozensheep had been given to the returning band; everywhere resounded thegrinding of coffee; men passed, carrying pitchers of leban and panniersof bread cakes hot from their simple oven. The great Sheikh, who hadasked many questions after the oriental fashion: which was the mostpowerful nation, England or France; what was the name of a thirdEuropean nation of which he had heard, white men with flat noses ingreen coats; whether the nation of white men with flat noses in greencoats could have taken Acre as the English had, the taking of Acre beingthe test of military prowess; how many horses the Queen of the Englishhad, and how many slaves; whether English pistols are good; whether theEnglish drink wine; whether the English are Christian giaours or Pagangiaours? and so on, now invited Tancred, Sheikh Hassan, and two or threeothers, to enter his pavilion and partake of the banquet. 

'The Sheikh must excuse me, ' said Tancred to Baroni; 'I am wearied andwounded. Ask if I can retire and have a tent. '

'Are you wounded?' said the young Sheikh, who was sitting on the carpetof Amalek, and speaking, not only in a tone of touching sympathy, but inthe language of Franguestan. 

'Not severely, ' said Tancred, less abruptly than he had yet spoken, forthe manner and the appearance of the youth touched him, 'but this ismy first fight, and perhaps I make too much of it. However, my arm ispainful and stiff, and indeed, you may conceive after all this, I couldwish for a little repose. '

'The great Sheikh has allotted you a compartment of his pavilion, 'said the youth; 'but it will prove a noisy resting-place, I fear, for awounded man. I have a tent here, an humbler one, but which is at leasttranquil. Let me be your host!'

'You are most gracious, and I should be much inclined to be your guest, but I am a prisoner, ' he said, haughtily, 'and cannot presume to followmy own will. '

'I will arrange all, ' said the youth, and he conversed with SheikhAmalek for some moments. Then they all rose, the young man advancing toTancred, and saying in a sweet coaxing voice, 'You are under my care. I will not be a cruel gaoler; I could not be to you. ' So saying, makingtheir reverence to the great Sheikh, the two young men retired togetherfrom the arena. Baroni would have followed them, when the youth stoppedhim, saying, with decision, 'The great Sheikh expects your presence; youmust on no account be absent. I will tend your chief: you will permitme?' he inquired in a tone of sympathy, and then, offering to supportthe arm of Tancred, he murmured, 'It kills me to think that you arewounded. '

Tancred was attracted to the young stranger: his prepossessingappearance, his soft manners, the contrast which they afforded to allaround, and to the scenes and circumstances which Tancred had recentlyexperienced, were winning. Tancred, therefore, gladly accompanied himto his pavilion, which was pitched outside the amphitheatre, and stoodapart. Notwithstanding the modest description of his tent by the youngSheikh, it was by no means inconsiderable in size, for it possessedseveral compartments, and was of a different colour and fashion fromthose of the rest of the tribe. Several steeds were picketed in Arabfashion near its entrance, and a group of attendants, smoking andconversing with great animation, were sitting in a circle close at hand. They pressed their hands to their hearts as Tancred and his host passedthem, but did not rise. Within the pavilion, Tancred found a luxuriousmedley of cushions and soft carpets, forming a delightful divan; pipesand arms, and, to his great surprise, several numbers of a Frenchnewspaper published at Smyrna. 

'Ah!' exclaimed Tancred, throwing himself on the divan, 'after allI have gone through to-day, this is indeed a great and an unexpectedrelief. '

''Tis your own divan, ' said the young Arab, clapping his hands; 'andwhen I have given some orders for your comfort, I shall only be yourguest, though not a distant one. ' He spoke some words in Arabic to anattendant who entered, and who returned very shortly with a silver lampfed with palm oil, which he placed on the ground. 

'I have two poor Englishmen here, ' said Tancred, 'my servants; they mustbe in sad straits; unable to speak a word----'

'I will give orders that they shall attend you. In the meantime you mustrefresh yourself, however lightly, before you repose. ' At this momentthere entered the tent several attendants with a variety of dishes, which Tancred would have declined, but the young Sheikh, selecting oneof them, said, 'This, at least, I must urge you to taste, for it isa favourite refreshment with us after great fatigue, and has someproperties of great virtue. ' So saying, he handed to Tancred a dish ofbread, dates, and prepared cream, which Tancred, notwithstanding hisprevious want of relish, cheerfully admitted to be excellent. Afterthis, as Tancred would partake of no other dish, pipes were brought tothe two young men, who, reclining on the divan, smoked and conversed. 

'Of all the strange things that have happened to me to-day, ' saidTancred, 'not the least surprising, and certainly the most agreeable, has been making your acquaintance. Your courtesy has much compensated mefor the rude treatment of your tribe; but, I confess, such refinement iswhat, under any circumstances, I should not have expected to find amongthe tents of the desert, any more than this French journal. '

'I am not an Arab, ' said the young man, speaking slowly and with an airof some embarrassment. 

'Ah!' exclaimed Tancred. 

'I am a Christian prince. '

'Yes!'

'A prince of the Lebanon, devoted to the English, and one who hassuffered much in their cause. '

'You are not a prisoner here, like myself?'

'No, I am here, seeking some assistance for those sufferers who shouldbe my subjects, were I not deprived of my sceptre, and they of a princewhose family has reigned over and protected them for more than sevencenturies. The powerful tribe of which Sheikh Amalek is the head oftenpitch their tents in the great Syrian desert, in the neighbourhoodof Damascus, and there are affairs in which they can aid my unhappypeople. '

'It is a great position, yours, ' said Tancred, in an animated tone, 'atthe same time a Syrian and a Christian prince!'

'Yes, ' said the young Emir, eagerly, 'if the English would onlyunderstand their own interests, with my co-operation Syria might betheirs. '

'The English!' said Tancred, 'why should the English take Syria?'

'France will take it if they do not. '

'I hope not, ' said Tancred. 

'But something must be done, ' said the Emir. 'The Porte never couldgovern it. Do you think anybody in Lebanon really cares for the Pashaof Damascus? If the Egyptians had not disarmed the mountain, the Turkswould be driven out of Syria in a week. '

'A Syrian and a Christian prince!' said Tancred, musingly. 'Thereare elements in that position stronger than the Porte, stronger thanEngland, stronger than united Europe. Syria was a great country whenFrance and England were forests. The tricolour has crossed the Alps andthe Rhine, and the flag of England has beaten even the tricolour; butif I were a Syrian prince, I would raise the cross of Christ and ask forthe aid of no foreign banner. '

'If I could only raise a loan, ' said the Emir, 'I could do withoutFrance and England. '

'A loan!' exclaimed Tancred; 'I see the poison of modern liberalism haspenetrated even the desert. Believe me, national redemption is not anaffair of usury. '

At this moment there was some little disturbance without the tent, whichit seems was occasioned by the arrival of Tancred's servants, Freemanand True-man. These excellent young men persisted in addressing theArabs in their native English, and, though we cannot for a momentbelieve that they fancied themselves understood, still, from a mixtureof pride and perverseness peculiarly British, they continued theirvaluable discourse as if every word told, or, if not apprehended, was astriking proof of the sheer stupidity of their new companions. The noisebecame louder and louder, and at length Freeman and Trueman entered. 

'Well, ' said Tancred, 'and how have you been getting on?'

'Well, my lord, I don't know, ' said Freeman, with a sort of jolly sneer;'we have been dining with the savages. '

'They are not savages, Freeman. '

'Well, my lord, they have not much more clothes, anyhow; and as forknives and forks, there is not such a thing known. '

'As for that, there was not such a thing known as a fork in Englandlittle more than two hundred years ago, and we were not savages then;for the best part of Montacute Castle was built long before that time. '

'I wish we were there, my lord!'

'I dare say you do: however, we must make the best of presentcircumstances. I wanted to know, in the first place, whether you hadfood; as for lodging, Mr. Baroni, I dare say, will manage something foryou; and if not, you had better quarter yourselves by the side of thistent. With your own cloaks and mine, you will manage very well. '

'Thank you, my lord. We have brought your lordship's things with us. Idon't know what I shall do to-morrow about your lordship's boots. Thesavages have got hold of the bottle of blacking and have been drinkingit like anything. '

'Never mind my boots, ' said Tancred, 'we have got other things to thinkof now. '

'I told them what it was, ' said Freeman, 'but they went on just thesame. '

'Obstinate dogs!' said Tancred. 

'I think they took it for wine, my lord, ' said Trueman. 'I never seesuch ignorant creatures. '

'You find now the advantage of a good education, Trueman. '

'Yes, my lord, we do, and feel very grateful to your lordship's honouredmother for the same. When we came down out of the mountains and seethose blazing fires, if I didn't think they were going to burn us alive, unless we changed our religion! I said the catechism as hard as I couldthe whole way, and felt as much like a blessed martyr as could be. '

'Well, well, ' said Tancred, 'I dare say they will spare our lives. Icannot much assist you here; but if there be anything you particularlywant, I will try and see what can be done. '

Freeman and Trueman looked at each other, and their speaking faces heldcommon consultation. At length, the former, with some slight hesitation, said, 'We don't like to be troublesome, my lord, but if your lordshipwould ask for some sugar for us; we cannot drink their coffee withoutsugar. '

CHAPTER XXXII. 

 _Suspense_

'I WOULD not mention it to your lordship last night, ' said Baroni; 'Ithought enough had happened for one day. '

'But now you think I am sufficiently fresh for new troubles. ' 'He spokeit in Hebrew, that myself and Sheikh Hassan should not understand him, but I know something of that dialect. '

'In Hebrew! And why in Hebrew?' 'They follow the laws of Moses, thistribe. ' 'Do you mean that they are Jews?' 'The Arabs are only Jewsupon horseback, ' said Baroni. 'This tribe, I find, call themselvesRechabites. '

'Ah!' exclaimed Tancred, and he began to muse. 'I have heard of thatname before. Is it possible, ' thought he, 'that my visit to Bethanyshould have led to this captivity?'

'This affair must have been planned at Jerusalem, ' said Baroni; 'I sawfrom the first it was not a common foray. These people know everything. They will send immediately to Besso; they know he is your banker, andthat if you want to build the Temple, he must pay for it, and unlessa most immoderate ransom is given, they will carry us all into theinterior of the desert. '

'And what do you counsel?'

'In this, as in all things, to gain time; and principally because Iam without resource, but with time expedients develop themselves. Naturally, what is wanted will come; expediency is a law of nature. The camel is a wonderful animal, but the desert made the camel. I havealready impressed upon the great Sheikh that you are not a prince ofthe blood; that your father is ruined, that there has been a murrain forthree years among his herds and flocks; and that, though you appear tobe travelling for amusement, you are, in fact, a political exile. Allthese are grounds for a reduced ransom. At present he believes nothingthat I say, because his mind has been previously impressed with contraryand more cogent representations, but what I say will begin to work whenhe has experienced some disappointment, and the period of re-actionarrives. Re-action is the law of society; it is inevitable. All successdepends upon seizing it. '

'It appears to me that you are a great philosopher, Baroni, ' saidTancred. 

'I travelled five years with M. De Sidonia, ' said Baroni. 'We were inperpetual scrapes, often worse than this, and my master moralised uponevery one of them. I shared his adventures, and I imbibed some of hiswisdom; and the consequence is, that I always ought to know what to say, and generally what to do. '

'Well, here at least is some theatre for your practice; though, as faras I can form an opinion, our course is simple, though ignominious. We must redeem ourselves from captivity. If it were only the end ofmy crusade, one might submit to it, like Coeur de Lion, after duesuffering; but occurring at the commencement, the catastrophe ismortifying, and I doubt whether I shall have heart enough to pursue myway. Were I alone, I certainly would not submit to ransom. I wouldlook upon captivity as one of those trials that await me, and I wouldendeavour to extricate myself from it by courage and address, relyingever on Divine aid; but I am not alone. I have involved you in thismischance, and these poor Englishmen, and, it would seem, the braveHassan and his tribe. I can hardly ask you to make the sacrifice which Iwould cheerfully endure; and therefore it seems to me that we have onlyone course--to march under the forks. '

'With submission, ' said Baroni, 'I cannot agree with any of yourlordship's propositions. You take an extreme view of our case. Extremeviews are never just; something always turns up which disturbsthe calculations formed upon their decided data. This something iscircumstance. Circumstance has decided every crisis which I haveexperienced, and not the primitive facts on which we have consulted. Rest assured that circumstance will clear us now. '

'I see no room, in our situation, for the accidents on which you rely, 'said Tancred. 'Circumstance, as you call it, is the creature of cities, where the action of a multitude, influenced by different motives, produces innumerable and ever-changing combinations; but we are in thedesert. The great Sheikh will never change his mind any more than hishabits of life, which are the same as his ancestors pursued thousands ofyears ago; and, for an identical reason, he is isolated and superior toall influences. '

'Something always turns up, ' said Baroni. 

'It seems to me that we are in a _cul-de-sac_, ' said Tancred. 

'There is always an outlet; one can escape from a _cul-de-sac_ by awindow. '

'Do you think it would be advisable to consult the master of this tent?'said Tancred, in a lower tone. 'He is very friendly. '

'The Emir Fakredeen, ' said Baroni. 

'Is that his name?'

'So I learnt last night. He is a prince of the house of Shehaab; a greathouse, but fallen. '

'He is a Christian, ' said Tancred, earnestly. 

'Is he?' said Baroni carelessly; 'I have known a good many Shehaabs, andif you will tell me their company, I will tell you their creed. '

'He might give us some advice. '

'No doubt of it, my lord; if advice could break our chains, we shouldsoon be free; but in these countries my only confidant is my camel. Assuming that this affair is to end in a ransom, what we want now is tochange the impressions of the great Sheikh respecting your wealth. Thiscan only be done from the same spot where the original ideas emanated. I must induce him to permit me to accompany his messenger to Besso. Thismission will take time, and he who gains time gains everything, as M. De Sidonia said to me when the savages were going to burn us alive, andthere came on a thunder-storm which extinguished their fagots. '

'You must really tell me your history some day, Baroni, ' said Tancred. 

'When my mission has failed. It will perhaps relieve your imprisonment;at present, I repeat, we must work for a moderate ransom, instead of themillions of which they talk, and during the negotiation take the chanceof some incident which will more agreeably free us. '

'Ah! I despair of that. '

'I do not, for it is presumptuous to believe that man can foresee thefuture, which will be your lordship's case, if you owe your freedom onlyto your piastres. '

'But they say that everything is calculation, Baroni. '

'No, ' said Baroni, with energy, 'everything is adventure. '

In the meantime the Emir Fakredeen was the prey of contending emotions. Tancred had from the first, and in an instant, exercised over hissusceptible temperament that magnetic influence to which he was sostrangely subject. In the heart of the wilderness and in the personof his victim, the young Emir suddenly recognised the heroic characterwhich he had himself so vaguely and, as it now seemed to him, so vainlyattempted to realise. The appearance and the courage of Tancred, thethoughtful repose of his manner, his high bearing amid the distressfulcircumstances in which he was involved, and the large views which thefew words that had escaped from him on the preceding evening wouldintimate that he took of public transactions, completely captivatedFakredeen, who seemed at length to have found the friend for whom hehad often sighed; the steadfast and commanding spirit, whose control, he felt conscious, was often required by his quick but whimsicaltemperament. And in what relation did he stand to this being whom helonged to press to his heart, and then go forth with him and conquerthe world? It would not bear contemplation. The arming of the Maronitesbecame quite a secondary object in comparison with obtaining thefriendship of Tancred. Would that he had not involved himself in thisconspiracy! and yet, but for this conspiracy, Tancred and himselfmight never have met. It was impossible to grapple with the question;circumstances must be watched, and some new combination formed toextricate both of them from their present perplexed position. 

Fakredeen sent one of his attendants in the morning to offer Tancredhorses, should his guest, as is the custom of Englishmen, care toexplore the neighbouring ruins which were celebrated; but Tancred'swound kept him confined to his tent. Then the Emir begged permission topay him a visit, which was to have lasted only a quarter of an hour;but when Fakredeen had once established himself in the divan with hisnargileh, he never quitted it. It would have been difficult for Tancredto have found a more interesting companion; impossible to have made anacquaintance more singularly unreserved. His frankness was startling. Tancred had no experience of such self-revelations; such a jumble ofsublime aspirations and equivocal conduct; such a total disregardof means, such complicated plots, such a fertility of perplexed andtenebrous intrigue! The animated manner and the picturesque phrase, too, in which all this was communicated, heightened the interest and effect. Fakredeen sketched a character in a sentence, and you knew instantly theindividual whom he described without any personal knowledge. Unlike theOrientals in general, his gestures were as vivid as his words. He actedthe interviews, he achieved the adventures before you. His voice couldtake every tone and his countenance every form. In the midst of allthis, bursts of plaintive melancholy; sometimes the anguish of asensibility too exquisite, alternating with a devilish mockery and afatal absence of all self-respect. 

'It appears to me, ' said Tancred, when the young Emir had declared hisstar accursed, since, after the ceaseless exertions of years, he wasstill as distant as ever from the accomplishment of his purpose, 'itappears to me that your system is essentially erroneous. I do notbelieve that anything great is ever effected by management. All thisintrigue, in which you seem such an adept, might be of some service ina court or in an exclusive senate; but to free a nation you requiresomething more vigorous and more simple. This system of intrigue inEurope is quite old-fashioned. It is one of the superstitions left us bythe wretched eighteenth century, a period when aristocracy was rampantthroughout Christendom; and what were the consequences? All faith in Godor man, all grandeur of purpose, all nobility of thought, and all beautyof sentiment, withered and shrivelled up. Then the dexterous managementof a few individuals, base or dull, was the only means of success. But we live in a different age: there are popular sympathies, howeverimperfect, to appeal to; we must recur to the high primeval practice, and address nations now as the heroes, and prophets, and legislatorsof antiquity. If you wish to free your country, and make the Syriansa nation, it is not to be done by sending secret envoys to Paris orLondon, cities themselves which are perhaps both doomed to fall; youmust act like Moses and Mahomet. '

'But you forget the religions, ' said Fakredeen. 'I have so manyreligions to deal with. If my fellows were all Christians, or allMoslemin, or all Jews, or all Pagans, I grant you, something might beeffected: the cross, the crescent, the ark, or an old stone, anythingwould do: I would plant it on the highest range in the centre of thecountry, and I would carry Damascus and Aleppo both in one campaign;but I am debarred from this immense support; I could only preachnationality, and, as they all hate each other worse almost than they dothe Turks, that would not be very inviting; nationality, without race asa plea, is like the smoke of this nargileh, a fragrant puff. Well, then, there remains only personal influence: ancient family, vast possessions, and traditionary power: mere personal influence can only be maintainedby management, by what you stigmatise as intrigue; and the mostdexterous member of the Shehaab family will be, in the long run, Princeof Lebanon. '

'And if you wish only to be Prince of Lebanon, I dare say you maysucceed, ' said Tancred, 'and perhaps with much less pains than you atpresent give yourself. But what becomes of all your great plans ofan hour ago, when you were to conquer the East, and establish theindependence of the Oriental races?'

'Ah!' exclaimed Fakredeen with a sigh, 'these are the only ideas forwhich it is worth while to live. '

'The world was never conquered by intrigue: it was conquered by faith. Now, I do not see that you have faith in anything. '

'Faith, ' said Fakredeen, musingly, as if his ear had caught the wordfor the first time, 'faith! that is a grand idea. If one could only havefaith in something and conquer the world!'

'See now, ' said Tancred, with unusual animation, 'I find no charm inconquering the world to establish a dynasty: a dynasty, like everythingelse, wears out; indeed, it does not last as long as most things; ithas a precipitate tendency to decay. There are reasons; we will not nowdwell on them. One should conquer the world not to enthrone a man, but an idea, for ideas exist for ever. But what idea? There is thetouchstone of all philosophy! Amid the wreck of creeds, the crash ofempires, French revolutions, English reforms, Catholicism in agony, andProtestantism in convulsions, discordant Europe demands the keynote, which none can sound. If Asia be in decay, Europe is in confusion. Yourrepose may be death, but our life is anarchy. '

'I am thinking, ' said Fakredeen, thoughtfully, 'how we in Syria couldpossibly manage to have faith in anything; I had faith in Mehemet Ali, but he is a Turk, and that upset him. If, instead of being merely arebellious Pasha, he had placed himself at the head of the Arabs, andrevived the Caliphate, you would have seen something. Head the desertand you may do anything. But it is so difficult. If you can once getthe tribes out of it, they will go anywhere. See what they did when theylast came forth. It is a simoom, a kamsin, fatal, irresistible. They areas fresh, too, as ever. The Arabs are always young; it is the only racethat never withers. I am an Arab myself; from my ancestor who was thestandard-bearer of the Prophet, the consciousness of race is the onlycircumstance that sometimes keeps up my spirit. '

'I am an Arab only in religion, ' said Tancred, 'but the consciousnessof creed sustains me. I know well, though born in a distant and northernisle, that the Creator of the world speaks with man only in this land;and that is why I am here. '

The young Emir threw an earnest glance at his companion, whosecountenance, though grave, was calm. 'Then you have faith?' saidFakredeen, inquiringly. 

'I have passive faith, ' said Tancred. 'I know that there is a Deity whohas revealed his will at intervals during different ages; but of hispresent purpose I feel ignorant, and therefore I have not activefaith; I know not what to do, and should be reduced to a mere spiritualslothfulness, had I not resolved to struggle with this fearfulnecessity, and so embarked in this great pilgrimage which has sostrangely brought us together. '

'But you have your sacred books to consult?' said Fakredeen. 

'There were sacred books when Jehovah conferred with Solomon; therewas a still greater number of sacred books when Jehovah inspired theprophets; the sacred writings were yet more voluminous when the Creatorordained that there should be for human edification a completely newseries of inspired literature. Nearly two thousand years have passedsince the last of those works appeared. It is a greater interval thanelapsed between the writings of Malachi and the writings of Matthew. '

'The prior of the Maronite convent, at Mar Hanna, has often urged on me, as conclusive evidence of the falseness of Mahomet's mission, that ourLord Jesus declared that after him "many false prophets should arise, "and warned his followers. '

'There spoke the Prince of Israel, ' said Tancred, 'not the universalRedeemer. He warned his tribe against the advent of false Messiahs, no more. Far from terminating by his coming the direct communicationbetween God and man, his appearance was only the herald of a relationbetween the Creator and his creatures more fine, more permanent, andmore express. The inspiring and consoling influence of the Paracleteonly commenced with the ascension of the Divine Son. In this fact, perhaps, may be found a sufficient reason why no written expressionof the celestial will has subsequently appeared. But, instead offoreclosing my desire for express communication, it would, on thecontrary, be a circumstance to authorise it. '

'Then how do you know that Mahomet was not inspired?' said Fakredeen. 

'Far be it from me to impugn the divine commission of any of the seedof Abraham, ' replied Tancred. 'There are doctors of our church whorecognise the sacred office of Mahomet, though they hold it to be, whatdivine commissions, with the great exception, have ever been, limitedand local. '

'God has never spoken to a European?' said Fakredeen, inquiringly. 

'Never. '

'But you are a European?'

'And your inference is just, ' said Tancred, in an agitated voice, andwith a changing countenance. 'It is one that has for some time hauntedmy soul. In England, when I prayed in vain for enlightenment, I at lastinduced myself to believe that the Supreme Being would not deign toreveal His will unless in the land which his presence had rendered holy;but since I have been a dweller within its borders, and poured forthmy passionate prayers at all its holy places, and received no sign, thedesolating thought has sometimes come over my spirit, that there isa qualification of blood as well as of locality necessary for thiscommunion, and that the favoured votary must not only kneel in the HolyLand but be of the holy race. '

'I am an Arab, ' said Fakredeen. 'It is something. '

'If I were an Arab in race as well as in religion, ' said Tancred, 'Iwould not pass my life in schemes to govern some mountain tribes. '

'I'll tell you, ' said the Emir, springing from his divan, and flingingthe tube of his nargileh to the other end of the tent: 'the game isin our hands, if we have energy. There is a combination which wouldentirely change the whole 'face of the world, and bring back empire tothe East. Though you are not the brother of the Queen of the English, you are nevertheless a great English prince, and the Queen will listento what you say; especially if you talk to her as you talk to me, andsay such fine things in such a beautiful voice. Nobody ever opened mymind like you. You will magnetise the Queen as you have magnetised me. Go back to England and arrange this. You see, gloze it over as they may, one thing is clear, it is finished with England. There are three thingswhich alone must destroy it. Primo, O'Connell appropriating to himselfthe revenues of half of Her Majesty's dominions. Secondo, the cottons;the world begins to get a little disgusted with those cottons; naturallyeverybody prefers silk; I am sure that the Lebanon in time could supplythe whole world with silk, if it were properly administered. Thirdly, steam; with this steam your great ships have become a respectable Noah'sark. The game is up; Louis Philippe can take Windsor Castle whenever hepleases, as you took Acre, with the wind in his teeth. It is all over, then. Now, see a _coup d'état_ that saves all. You must perform thePortuguese scheme on a great scale; quit a petty and exhausted positionfor a vast and prolific empire. Let the Queen of the English collect agreat fleet, let her stow away all her treasure, bullion, gold plate, and precious arms; be accompanied by all her court and chief people, and transfer the seat of her empire from London to Delhi. There shewill find an immense empire ready made, a firstrate army, and a largerevenue. In the meantime I will arrange with Mehemet Ali. 

He shall have Bagdad and Mesopotamia, and pour the Bedouin cavalry intoPersia. I will take care of Syria and Asia Minor. The only way to managethe Afghans is by Persia and by the Arabs. We will acknowledge theEmpress of India as our suzerain, and secure for her the Levantinecoast. If she like, she shall have Alexandria as she now has Malta: itcould be arranged. Your Queen is young; she has an _avenir_. Aberdeenand Sir Peel will never give her this advice; their habits are formed. They are too old, too _rusés_. But, you see! the greatest empire thatever existed; besides which she gets rid of the embarrassment of herChambers! And quite practicable; for the only difficult part, theconquest of India, which baffled Alexander, is all done!'

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

 _A Pilgrim to Mount Sinai_

IT WAS not so much a conviction as a suspicion that Tancred had conveyedto the young Emir, when the pilgrim had confessed that the depressingthought sometimes came over him, that he was deficient in thatqualification of race which was necessary for the high communion towhich he aspired. Four-and-twenty hours before he was not thus dejected. Almost within sight of Sinai, he was still full of faith. But hisvexatious captivity, and the enfeebling consequences of this wound, dulled his spirit. Alone, among strangers and foes, in pain and inperil, and without that energy which finds excitement in difficulty, and can mock at danger, which requires no counsellor but our own quickbrain, and no champion but our own right arm, the high spirit of Tancredfor the first time flagged. As the twilight descended over the rockycity, its sculptured tombs and excavated temples, and its strewn remainsof palaces and theatres, his heart recurred with tenderness to the hallsand towers of Montacute and Bellamont, and the beautiful affectionsbeneath those stately roofs, that, urged on, as he had once thought, by a divine influence, now, as he was half tempted to credit, by afantastic impulse, he had dared to desert. Brooding in dejection, hiseyes were suffused with tears. 

It was one of those moments of amiable weakness which make us all akin, when sublime ambition, the mystical predispositions of genius, thesolemn sense of duty, all the heaped-up lore of ages, and the dogmas ofa high philosophy alike desert us, or sink into nothingness. The voiceof his mother sounded in his ear, and he was haunted by his father'sanxious glance. Why was he there? Why was he, the child of a northernisle, in the heart of the Stony Arabia, far from the scene of his birthand of his duties? A disheartening, an awful question, which, if itcould not be satisfactorily answered by Tancred of Montacute, it seemedto him that his future, wherever or however passed, must be one ofintolerable bale. 

Was he, then, a stranger there? uncalled, unexpected, intrusive, unwelcome? Was it a morbid curiosity, or the proverbial restlessness ofa satiated aristocrat, that had drawn him to these wilds? What wilds?Had he no connection with them? Had he not from his infancy repeated, inthe congregation of his people, the laws which, from the awful summit ofthese surrounding mountains, the Father of all had Himself delivered forthe government of mankind? These Arabian laws regulated his life. And the wanderings of an Arabian tribe in this 'great and terriblewilderness, ' under the immediate direction of the Creator, sanctified byHis miracles, governed by His counsels, illumined by His presence, hadbeen the first and guiding history that had been entrusted to his youngintelligence, from which it had drawn its first pregnant examplesof human conduct and divine interposition, and formed its first dimconceptions of the relations between man and God. Why, then, he had aright to be here! He had a connection with these regions; they had ahold upon him. He was not here like an Indian Brahmin, who visits Europefrom a principle of curiosity, however rational or however refined. Theland which the Hindoo visits is not his land, nor his father's land; thelaws which regulate it are not his laws, and the faith which fills itstemples is not the revelation that floats upon his sacred Ganges. Butfor this English youth, words had been uttered and things done, morethan thirty centuries ago, in this stony wilderness, which influencedhis opinions and regulated his conduct every day of his life, in thatdistant and seagirt home, which, at the time of their occurrence, wasnot as advanced in civilisation as the Polynesian groups or the islandsof New Zealand. The life and property of England are protected by thelaws of Sinai. The hard-working people of England are secured in everyseven days a day of rest by the laws of Sinai. And yet they persecutethe Jews, and hold up to odium the race to whom they are indebted forthe sublime legislation which alleviates the inevitable lot of thelabouring multitude!

And when that labouring multitude cease for a while from a toil whichequals almost Egyptian bondage, and demands that exponent of themysteries of the heart, that soother of the troubled spirit, whichpoetry can alone afford, to whose harp do the people of England fly forsympathy and solace? Who is the most popular poet in this country? Ishe to be found among the Mr. Wordsworths and the Lord Byrons, amidsauntering reveries or monologues of sublime satiety? Shall we seek himamong the wits of Queen Anne? Even to the myriad-minded Shakespeare canwe award the palm? No; the most popular poet in England is the sweetsinger of Israel. Since the days of the heritage, when every man dweltsafely under his vine and under his fig tree, there never was a race whosang so often the odes of David as the people of Great Britain. 

Vast as the obligations of the whole human family are to the Hebrewrace, there is no portion of the modern population so much indebted tothem as the British people. It was 'the sword of the Lord and of Gideon'that won the boasted liberties of England; chanting the same canticlesthat cheered the heart of Judah amid their glens, the Scotch, upon theirhillsides, achieved their religious freedom. 

Then why do these Saxon and Celtic societies persecute an Arabian race, from whom they have adopted laws of sublime benevolence, and inthe pages of whose literature they have found perpetual delight, instruction, and consolation? That is a great question, which, inan enlightened age, may be fairly asked, but to which even theself-complacent nineteenth century would find some difficulty incontributing a reply. Does it stand thus? Independently of theiradmirable laws which have elevated our condition, and of their exquisitepoetry which has charmed it; independently of their heroic history whichhas animated us to the pursuit of public liberty, we are indebted to theHebrew people for our knowledge of the true God and for the redemptionfrom our sins. 

'Then I have a right to be here, ' said Tancred of Montacute, as his eyeswere fixed in abstraction on the stars of Arabia; 'I am not a travellingdilettante, mourning over a ruin, or in ecstasies at a decipheredinscription. I come to the land whose laws I obey, whose religion Iprofess, and I seek, upon its sacred soil, those sanctions which forages were abundantly accorded. The angels who visited the Patriarchs, and announced the advent of the Judges, who guided the pens of Prophetsand bore tidings to the Apostles, spoke also to the Shepherds in thefield. I look upon the host of heaven; do they no longer stand beforethe Lord? Where are the Cherubim, where the Seraphs? Where is Michaelthe Destroyer? Gabriel of a thousand missions?'

At this moment, the sound of horsemen recalled Tancred from his reverie, and, looking up, he observed a group of Arabs approaching him, threeof whom were mounted. Soon he recognised the great Sheikh Amalek, andHassan, the late commander of his escort. The young Syrian Emir wastheir companion. This was a visit of hospitable ceremony from the greatSheikh to his distinguished prisoner. Amalek, pressing his hand to hisheart, gave Tancred the salute of peace, and then, followed by Hassan, who had lost nothing of his calm self-respect, but who conducted himselfas if he were still free, the great Sheikh seated himself on thecarpet that was spread before the tent, and took the pipe, whichwas immediately offered him by Freeman and Trueman, following theinstructions of an attendant of the Emir Fakredeen. 

After the usual compliments and some customary observations about horsesand pistols, Fakredeen, who had seated himself close to Tancred, with akind of shrinking cajolery, as if he were seeking the protection of somesuperior being, addressing Amalek in a tone of easy assurance, whichremarkably contrasted with the sentimental deference he displayedtowards his prisoner, said:

'Sheikh of Sheikhs, there is but one God: now is it Allah, or Jehovah?'

'The palm tree is sometimes called a date tree, replied Amalek, 'butthere is only one tree. '

'Good, ' said Fakredeen, 'but you do not pray to Allah?'

'I pray as my fathers prayed, ' said Amalek. 

'And you pray to Jehovah?'

'It is said. '

'Sheikh Hassan, ' said the Emir, 'there is but one God, and his name isJehovah. Why do you not pray to Jehovah?'

'Truly there is but one God, ' said Sheikh Hassan, 'and Mahomet is hisProphet. He told my fathers to pray to Allah, and to Allah I pray. '

'Is Mahomet the prophet of God, Sheikh of Sheikhs?'

'It may be, ' replied Amalek, with a nod of assent. 

'Then why do you not pray as Sheikh Hassan?'

'Because Moses, without doubt the prophet of God, --for all believe inhim, Sheikh Hassan, and Emir Fakredeen, and you too, Prince, brother ofqueens, --married into our family and taught us to pray to Jehovah. Theremay be other prophets, but the children of Jethro would indeed ride onasses were they not content with Moses. '

'And you have his five books?' inquired Tancred. 

'We had them from the beginning, and we shall keep them to the end. '

'And you learnt in them that Moses married the daughter of Jethro?'

'Did I learn in them that I have wells and camels? We want no books totell us who married our daughters. '

'And yet it is not yesterday that Moses fled from Egypt into Midian?'

'It is not yesterday for those who live in cities, where they say atone gate that it is morning, and at another it is night. Where men telllies, the deed of the dawn is the secret of sunset. But in the desertnothing changes; neither the acts of a man's life, nor the words of aman's lips. We drink at the same well where Moses helped Zipporah, we tend the same flocks, we live under the same tents; our words havechanged as little as our waters, our habits, or our dwellings. What myfather learnt from those before him, he delivered to me, and I have toldit to my son. What is time and what is truth, that I should forget thata prophet of Jehovah married into my house?'

'Where little is done, little is said, ' observed Sheikh Hassan, 'andsilence is the mother of truth. 

Since the Hegira, nothing has happened in Arabia, and before that wasMoses, and before him the giants. '

'Let truth always be spoken, ' said Amalek; 'your words are a flowingstream, and the children of Rechab and the tribes of the Senites neverjoined him of Mecca, for they had the five books, and they said, "Isnot that enough?" They withdrew to the Syrian wilderness, and theymultiplied. But the sons of Koreidha, who also had the five books, but who were not children of Rechab, but who came into the desert nearMedina after Nebuchadnezzar had destroyed El Khuds, they first joinedhim of Mecca, and then they made war on him, and he broke their bows andled them into captivity; and they are to be found in the cities of Yemento this day; the children of Israel who live in the cities of Yemen arethe tribe of Koreidha. '

'Unhappy sons of Koreidha, who made war upon the Prophet, and who livein cities!' said Sheikh Hassan, taking a fresh pipe. 

'And perhaps, ' said the young Emir, 'if you had not been children ofJethro, you might have acknowledged him of Mecca, Sheikh of Sheikhs. '

'There is but one God, ' said Amalek; 'but there may be many prophets. Itbecomes not a son of jethro to seek other than Moses. But I will not saythat the Koran comes not from God, since it was written by one whowas of the tribe of Koreish, and the tribe of Koreish are the linealdescendants of Ibrahim. '

'And you believe that the Word of God could come only to the seed ofAbraham?' asked Tancred, eagerly. 

'I and my fathers have watered our flocks in the wilderness since timewas, ' replied Amalek; 'we have seen the Pharaohs, and Nebuchadnezzar, and Iskander, and the Romans, and the Sultan of the French: theyconquered everything except us; and where are they? They are sand. Letmen doubt of unicorns: but of one thing there can be no doubt, that Godnever spoke except to an Arab. '

Tancred covered his face with his hands. Then, after a few moments'pause, looking up, he said, 'Sheikh of Sheikhs, I am your prisoner; andwas, when you captured me, a pilgrim to Mount Sinai, a spot which, inyour belief, is not less sacred than in mine. We are, as I have learned, only two days' journey from that holy place. Grant me this boon, that Imay at once proceed thither, guarded as you will. I pledge you the wordof a Christian noble, that I will not attempt to escape. Long beforeyou have received a reply from Jerusalem, I shall have returned; andwhatever may be the result of the visit of Baroni, I shall, at least, have fulfilled my pilgrimage. '

'Prince, brother of queens, ' replied Amalek, with that politeness whichis the characteristic of the Arabian chieftains; 'under my tents youhave only to command; go where you like, return when you please. Mychildren shall attend you as your guardians, not as your guards. ' Andthe great Sheikh rose and retired. 

Tancred re-entered his tent, and, reclining, fell into a reverie ofdistracting thoughts. The history of his life and mind seemed with awhirling power to pass before him; his birth, in clime unknown to thePatriarchs; his education, unconsciously to himself, in an Arabianliterature; his imbibing, from his tender infancy, oriental ideas andoriental creeds; the contrast that the occidental society in which hehad been reared presented to them; his dissatisfaction with that socialsystem; his conviction of the growing melancholy of enlightened Europe, veiled, as it may be, with sometimes a conceited bustle, sometimes adesperate shipwreck gaiety, sometimes with all the exciting empiricismof science; his perplexity that, between the Asian revelation and theEuropean practice there should be so little conformity, and why therelations between them should be so limited and imperfect; above all, his passionate desire to penetrate the mystery of the elder world, andshare its celestial privileges and divine prerogative. Tancred sighed. 

He looked round; some one had gently drawn his hand. It was the youngEmir kneeling, his beautiful blue eyes bedewed with tears. 

'You are unhappy, said Fakredeen, in a tone of plaintiveness. 

'It is the doom of man, ' replied Tancred; 'and in my position sadnessshould not seem strange. '

'The curse of ten thousand mothers on those who made you a prisoner; thecurse of twenty thousand mothers on him who inflicted on you a wound!'

''Tis the fortune of life, ' said Tancred, more cheerfully; 'and in truthI was perhaps thinking of other things. '

'Do you know why I trouble you when your heart is dark?' said the youngEmir. 'See now, if you will it, you are free. The great Sheikh hasconsented that you should go to Sinai. I have two dromedaries here, fleeter than the Kamsin. At the well of Mokatteb, where we encamp forthe night, I will serve raki to the Bedouins; I have some with me, strong enough to melt the snow of Lebanon; if it will not do, they shallsmoke some timbak, that will make them sleep like pashas. I know thisdesert as a man knows his father's house; we shall be at Hebron beforethey untie their eyelids. Tell me, is it good?'

'Were I alone, ' said Tancred, 'without a single guard, I must return. '

'Why?'

'Because I have pledged the word of a Christian noble. '

'To a man who does not believe in Christ. Faugh! Is it not itself a sinto keep faith with heretics?'

'But is he one?' said Tancred. 'He believes in Moses; he disbelieves innone of the seed of Abraham. He is of that seed himself! Would I weresuch a heretic as Sheikh Amalek!'

'If you will only pay me a visit in the Lebanon, I would introduce youto our patriarch, and he would talk as much theology with you as youlike. For my own part it is not a kind of knowledge that I have muchcultivated; you know I am peculiarly situated, we have so many religionson the mountain; but time presses; tell me, my prince, shall Hebron beour point?'

'If Amalek believed in Baal, I must return, ' said Tancred; 'even if itwere to certain death. Besides, I could not desert my men; and Baroni, what would become of him?'

'We could easily make some plan that would extricate them. Dismiss themfrom your mind, and trust yourself to me. I know nothing that woulddelight me more than to baulk these robbers of their prey. '

'I should not talk of such things, ' said Tancred; 'I must remain here, or I must return. '

'What can you want to do on Mount Sinai?' murmured the prince ratherpettishly. 'Now if it were Mount Lebanon, and you had a wish to employyourself, there is an immense field! We might improve the conditionof the people; we might establish manufactures, stimulate agricultureextend commerce get an appalto of the silk, buy it all up at sixtypiastres per oke, and sell it at Marseilles at two hundred and at thesame time advance the interests of true religion as much as you please. '

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

 _In the Valley of the Shadow_

THEN days had elapsed since the capture of Tancred; Amalek and his Arabswere still encamped in the rocky city; the beams of the early sun werejust rising over the crest of the amphitheatre, when four horsemen, whowere recognised as the children of Rechab, issued from the ravine. Theygalloped over the plain, shouted, and threw their lances in the air. From the crescent of black tents came forth the warriors, some mountedtheir horses and met their returning brethren, others prepared theirwelcome. The horses neighed, the camels stirred their long necks. Allliving things seemed conscious that an event had occurred. 

The four horsemen were surrounded by their brethren; but one of them, giving and returning blessings, darted forward to the pavilion of thegreat Sheikh. 

'Have you brought camels, Shedad, son of Amroo?' inquired one of thewelcomers to the welcomed. 

'We have been to El Khuds, ' was the reply. 'What we have brought back isa seal of Solomon. 

'From Mount Seir to the City of the Friend, what have you seen in thejoyful land?'

'We found the sons of Hamar by the well-side of Jumda; we found themarks of many camels in the pass of Gharendel, and the marks in the passof Gharendel were not the marks of the camels of the Beni-Hamar. '

'I had a dream, and the children of Tora said to me, "Who art thou inthe hands of our father's flocks? Are none but the sons of Rechab todrink the sweet waters of Edom?" Methinks the marks in the pass ofGharendel were the marks of the camels of the children of Tora. '

'There is a feud between the Beni-Tora and the Beni-Hamar, ' replied theother Arab, shaking his head. 'The Beni-Tora are in the wilderness ofAkiba, and the Beni-Hamar have burnt their tents and captured theircamels and their women. This is why the sons of Hamar are watering theirflocks by the well of Jumda. '

In the meantime, the caravan, of which the four horsemen were theadvanced guard, issued from the pass into the plain. 

'Shedad, son of Amroo, ' exclaimed one of the Bedouins, 'what! have youcaptured an harem?' For he beheld dromedaries and veiled women. 

The great Sheikh came forth from his pavilion and sniffed the morningair; a dignified smile played over his benignant features, and once hesmoothed his venerable beard. 

'My son-in-law is a true son of Israel, ' he murmured complacently tohimself. 'He will trust his gold only to his own blood. '

The caravan wound about the plain, then crossed the stream at theaccustomed ford, and approached the amphitheatre. 

The horsemen halted, some dismounted, the dromedaries knelt down, Baroniassisted one of the riders from her seat; the great Sheikh advanced andsaid, 'Welcome in the name of God! welcome with a thousand blessings!'

'I come in the name of God; I come with a thousand blessings, ' repliedthe lady. 

'And with a thousand something else, ' thought Amalek to himself; butthe Arabs are so polished that they never make unnecessary allusions tobusiness. 

'Had I thought the Queen of Sheba was going to pay me a visit, ' said thegreat Sheikh, 'I would have brought the pavilion of Miriam. How is theRose of Sharon?' he continued, as he ushered Eva into his tent. 'How isthe son of my heart; how is Besso, more generous than a thousand kings?'

'Speak not of the son of thy heart, ' said Eva, seating herself on thedivan. 'Speak not of Besso, the generous and the good, for his head isstrewn with ashes, and his mouth is full of sand. '

'What is this?' thought Amalek. 'Besso is not ill, or his daughter wouldnot be here. This arrow flies not straight. Does he want to scrape mypiastres? These sons of Israel that dwell in cities will mix their penswith our spears. I will be obstinate as an Azafeer camel. '

Slaves now entered, bringing coffee and bread, the Sheikh askingquestions as they ate, as to the time Eva quitted Jerusalem, herhalting-places in the desert, whether she had met with any tribes; thenhe offered to his granddaughter his own chibouque, which she tookwith ceremony, and instantly returned, while they brought her aromaticnargileh. 

Eva scanned the imperturbable countenance of her grandfather: calm, polite, benignant, she knew the great Sheikh too well to suppose fora moment that its superficial expression was any indication of hisinnermost purpose. Suddenly she said, in a somewhat careless tone, 'Andwhy is the Lord of the Syrian pastures in this wilderness, that has beenso long accursed?'

The great Sheikh took his pipe from his mouth, and then slowly sentforth its smoke through his nostrils, a feat of which he was proud. Thenhe placidly replied: 'For the same reason that the man named Baroni madea visit to El Khuds. '

'The man named Baroni came to demand succour for his lord, who is yourprisoner. '

'And also to obtain two millions of piastres, ' added Amalek. 

'Two millions of piastres! Why not at once ask for the throne ofSolomon?'

'Which would be given, if required, ' rejoined Amalek. 'Was it not saidin the divan of Besso, that if this Prince of Franguestan wished torebuild the Temple, the treasure would not be wanting?'

'Said by some city gossip, ' said Eva, scornfully. 

'Said by your father, daughter of Besso, who, though he lives in cities, is not a man who will say that almonds are pearls. '

Eva controlled her countenance, though it was difficult to conceal hermortification as she perceived how well informed her grandfather was ofall that passed under their roof, and of the resources of his prisoner. It was necessary, after the last remark of the great Sheikh, to takenew ground, and, instead of dwelling, as she was about to do, on theexaggeration of public report, and attempting to ridicule the vastexpectations of her host, she said, in a soft tone, 'You did not ask mewhy Besso was in such affliction, father of my mother?'

'There are many sorrows: has he lost ships? If a man is in sound health, all the rest are dreams. And Besso needs no hakeem, or you would not behere, my Rose of Sharon. '

'The light may have become darkness in our eyes, though we may still eatand drink, ' said Eva. 'And that has happened to Besso which might haveturned a child's hair grey in its cradle. '

'Who has poisoned his well? Has he quarrelled with the Porte?' said theSheikh, without looking at her. 

'It is not his enemies who have pierced him in the back. '

'Humph, ' said the great Sheikh. 

'And that makes his heart more heavy, ' said Eva. 

'He dwells too much in walls, ' said the great Sheikh. 'He should haveridden into the desert, instead of you, my child. He should have broughtthe ransom himself; 'and the great Sheikh sent two curling streams outof his nostrils. 

'Whoever be the bearer, he is the payer, ' said Eva. 'It is he who is theprisoner, not this son of Franguestan, who, you think, is your captive. '

'Your father wishes to scrape my piastres, ' said the great Sheikh, in astern voice, and looking his granddaughter full in the face. 

'If he wanted to scrape piastres from the desert, ' said Eva, in a sweetbut mournful voice, 'would Besso have given you the convoy of the Hadjwithout condition or abatement?'

The great Sheikh drew a long breath from his chibouque. After amomentary pause, he said, 'In a family there should ever be unity andconcord; above all things, words should not be dark. How much will theQueen of the English give for her brother?

'He is not the brother of the Queen of the English, ' said Eva. 

'Not when he is my spoil, in my tent, ' said Amalek, with a cunningsmile; 'but put him on a round hat in a walled city, and then he is thebrother of the Queen of the English. '

'Whatever his rank, he is the charge of Besso, my father and your son, 'said Eva; 'and Besso has pledged his heart, his life, and his honour, that this young prince shall not be hurt. For him he feels, for himhe speaks, for him he thinks. Is it to be told in the bazaars ofFranguestan that his first office of devotion was to send this youthinto the desert to be spoiled by the father of his wife?'

'Why did my daughters marry men who live in cities?' exclaimed the oldSheikh. 

'Why did they marry men who made your peace with the Egyptian, when noteven the desert could screen you? Why did they marry men who gained youthe convoy of the Hadj, and gave you the milk of ten thousand camels?'

'Truly, there is but one God in the desert and in the city, ' saidAmalek. 'Now, tell me, Rose of Sharon, how many piastres have youbrought me?'

'If you be in trouble, Besso will aid you as he has done; if you wishto buy camels, Besso will assist you as before; but if you expect ransomfor his charge, whom you ought to have placed on your best mare ofNedgid, then I have not brought a para. '

'It is clearly the end of the world, ' said Amalek, with a savage sigh. 

'Why I am here, ' said Eva, 'I am only the child of your child, a womanwithout spears; why do you not seize me and send to Besso? He mustransom me, for I am the only offspring of his loins. Ask for fourmillions of piastres I He can raise them. Let him send round to all thecities of Syria, and tell his brethren that a Bedouin Sheikh has madehis daughter and her maidens captive, and, trust me, the treasure willbe forthcoming. He need not say it is one on whom he has lavished athousand favours, whose visage was darker than the simoom when he madethe great Pasha smile on him; who, however he may talk of living incities now, could come cringing to El Sham to ask for the contractof the Hadj, by which he had gained ten thousand camels; he need saynothing of all this, and, least of all, need he say that the spoiler ishis father!'

'What is this Prince of Franguestan to thee and thine?' said Amalek. 'He comes to our land like his brethren, to see the sun and seek fortreasure in our ruins, and he bears, like all of them, some writtenwords to your father, saying, "Give to this man what he asks, and wewill give to your people what they ask. " I understand all this: they allcome to your father because he deals in money, and is the only man inSyria who has money. What he pays, he is again paid. Is it not so, Eva?Daughter of my blood, let there not be strife between us; give me amillion piastres, and a hundred camels to the widow of Sheikh Salem, andtake the brother of the Queen. '

'Camels shall be given to the widow of Sheikh Salem, ' said Eva, in aconciliatory voice; 'but for this ransom of which you speak, my father, it is not a question as to the number of piastres. If you want a millionof piastres, shall it be said that Besso would not lend, perhaps give, them to the great Sheikh he loves? But, you see, my father of fathers, piastres and this Frank stranger are not of the same leaven. Name themnot together, I pray you; mix not their waters. It concerns the honour, and welfare, and safety, and glory of Besso that you should cover thisyouth with a robe of power, and place him upon your best dromedary, andsend him back to El Khuds. ' The great Sheikh groaned. 

'Have I opened a gate that I am unable to close?' he at length said. 'What is begun shall be finished. Have the children of Rechab beenbrought from the sweet wells of Costal to this wilderness ever accursedto fill their purses with stones? Will they not return and say that mybeard is too white? Yet do I wish that this day was finished. Name thenat once, my daughter, the piastres that you will give; for the prince, the brother of queens, may to-morrow be dust. ' 'How so?' eagerlyinquired Eva. 'He is a Mejnoun, ' replied Amalek. 'After the man namedBaroni departed for El Khuds, the Prince of Franguestan would notrest until he visited Gibel Mousa, and I said "Yes" to all his wishes. Whether it were his wound inflamed by his journey, or grief at hiscaptivity, for these Franks are the slaves of useless sorrow, hereturned as wild as Kais, and now lies in his tent, fancying he is stillon Mount Sinai. 'Tis the fifth day of the fever, and Shedad, the son ofAmroo, tells me that the sixth will be fatal unless we can give him thegall of a phoenix, and such a bird is not to be found in this part ofArabia. 

Now, you are a great hakeem, my child of children; go then to the youngprince, and see what can be done: for if he die, we can scarcely ransomhim, and I shall lose the piastres, and your father the backsheesh whichI meant to have given him on the transaction. '

'This is very woful, ' murmured Eva to herself, and not listening to thelatter observations of her grandfather. 

At this moment the curtain of the pavilion was withdrawn, and therestood before them Fakredeen. The moment his eyes met those of Eva, hecovered his face with both his hands. 

'How is the Prince of Franguestan?' inquired Amalek. 

The young Emir advanced, and threw himself at the feet of Eva. 'Wemust entreat the Rose of Sharon to visit him, ' he said, 'for there isno hakeem in Arabia equal to her. Yes, I came to welcome you, and toentreat you to do this kind office for the most gifted and the mostinteresting of beings;' and he looked up in her face with a supplicatingglance. 

'And you too, are you fearful, ' said Eva, in atone of tender reproach, 'that by his death you may lose your portion of the spoil?'

The Emir gave a deprecating glance of anguish, and then, bending hishead, pressed his lips to the Bedouin robes which she wore. ''Tis themost unfortunate of coincidences, but believe me, dearest of friends, 'tis only a coincidence. I am here merely by accident; I was hunting, Iwas----'

'You will make me doubt your intelligence as well as your good faith, 'said Eva, 'if you persist in such assurances. '

'Ah! if you but knew him, ' exclaimed Fakredeen, 'you would believe mewhen I tell you that I am ready to sacrifice even my life for his. Farfrom sharing the spoil, ' he added, in a rapid and earnest whisper, 'Ihad already proposed, and could have insured, his escape; when hewent to Sinai, to that unfortunate Sinai. I had two dromedaries here, thoroughbred; we might have reached Hebron before----'

'You went with him to Sinai?'

'He would not suffer it; he desired, he said, to be silent and to bealone. One of the Bedouins, who accompanied him, told me that theyhalted in the valley, and that he went up alone into the mountain, wherehe remained a day and night. When he returned hither, I perceived agreat change in him. His words were quick, his eye glittered like fire;he told me that he had seen an angel, and in the morning he was as heis now. I have wept, I have prayed for him in the prayers of everyreligion, I have bathed his temples with liban, and hung his tent withcharms. O Rose of Sharon! Eva, beloved, darling Eva, I have faith in noone but in you. See him, I beseech you, see him! If you but knew him, if you had but listened to his voice, and felt the greatness of histhoughts and spirit, it would not need that I should make this entreaty. But, alas! you know him not; you have never listened to him; you havenever seen him; or neither he, nor I, nor any of us, would have beenhere, and have been thus. '

CHAPTER XXXV. 

 _The New Crusader in Peril_

NOTWITHSTANDING all the prescient care of the Duke and Duchess ofBellamont, it was destined that the stout arm of Colonel Brace shouldnot wave by the side of their son when he was first attacked by theenemy, and now that he was afflicted by a most severe if not fatalillness, the practised skill of the Doctor Roby was also absent. Freshexemplification of what all of us so frequently experience, that themost sagacious and matured arrangements are of little avail; that noone is present when he is wanted, and that nothing occurs as it wasforeseen. Nor should we forget that the principal cause of all thesemischances might perhaps be recognised in the inefficiency of the thirdperson whom the parents of Tancred had, with so much solicitude and atso great an expense, secured to him as a companion and counsellor in histravels. It cannot be denied that if the theological attainments ofthe Rev. Mr. Bernard had been of a more profound and comprehensivecharacter, it is possible that Lord Montacute might have deemed itnecessary to embark upon this new crusade, and ultimately to findhimself in the deserts of Mount Sinai. However this may be, one thingwas certain, that Tancred had been wounded without a single sabre ofthe Bellamont yeomanry being brandished in his defence; was now lyingdangerously ill in an Arabian tent, without the slightest medicalassistance; and perhaps was destined to quit this world, not onlywithout the consolation of a priest of his holy Church, but surroundedby heretics and infidels. 

'We have never let any of the savages come near my lord, ' said Freemanto Baroni, on his, return. 

'Except the fair young gentleman, ' added True-man, 'and he is aChristian, or as good. '

'He is a prince, ' said Freeman, reproachfully. 'Have I not told you sotwenty times? He is what they call in this country a Hameer, and livesin a castle, where he wanted my lord to visit him. I only wish he hadgone with my lord to Mount Siny; I think it would have come to moregood. '

'He has been very attentive to my lord all the time, ' said Trueman;'indeed, he has never quitted my lord night or day; and only left hisside when we heard the caravan had returned. '

'I have seen him, ' said Baroni; 'and now let us enter the tent. '

Upon the divan, his head supported by many cushions, clad in a Syrianrobe of the young Emir, and partly covered with a Bedouin cloak, lay Tancred, deadly pale, his eyes open and fixed, and apparentlyunconscious of their presence. He was lying on his back, gazing on theroof of the tent, and was motionless. Fakredeen had raised his woundedarm, which had fallen from the couch, and had supported it with a pilemade of cloaks and pillows. The countenance of Tancred was much changedsince Baroni last beheld him; it was greatly attenuated, but the eyesglittered with an unearthly fire. 

'We don't think he has ever slept, ' said Freeman, in a whisper. 

'He did nothing but talk to himself the first two days, ' said Trueman;'but yesterday he has been more quiet. '

Baroni advanced to the divan behind the head of Tancred, so that hemight not be observed, and then, letting himself fall noiselessly on thecarpet, he touched with a light finger the pulse of Lord Montacute. 

'There is not too much blood here, ' he said, shaking his head. 

'You don't think it is hopeless?' said Freeman, beginning to blubber. 

'And all the great doings of my lord's coming of age to end in this!'said Trueman. 'They sat down only two less than a hundred at thesteward's table for more than a week!'

Baroni made a sign to them to leave the tent. 'God of my fathers!' hesaid, still seated on the ground, his arms folded, and watching Tancredearnestly with his bright black eyes; 'this is a bad business. This isdeath or madness, perhaps both. What will M. De Sidonia say? He lovesnot men who fail. All will be visited on me. I shall be shelved. InEurope they would bleed him, and they would kill him; here they will notbleed him, and he may die. Such is medicine, and such is life! Now, if Ionly had as much opium as would fill the pipe of a mandarin, that wouldbe something. God of my fathers! this is a bad business. '

He rose softly; he approached nearer to Tancred, and examined hiscountenance more closely; there was a slight foam upon the lip, which hegently wiped away. 

'The brain has worked too much, ' said Baroni to himself. 'Often have Iwatched him pacing the deck during our voyage; never have I witnessedan abstraction so prolonged and so profound. He thinks as much as M. De Sidonia, and feels more. There is his weakness. The strength of mymaster is his superiority to all sentiment. No affections and a greatbrain; these are the men to command the world. No affections and alittle brain; such is the stuff of which they make petty villains. And agreat brain and a great heart, what do they make? Ah! I do not know. The last, perhaps, wears off with time; and yet I wish I could save thisyouth, for he ever attracts me to him. '

Thus he remained for some time seated on the carpet by the side of thedivan, revolving in his mind every possible expedient that might benefitTancred, and finally being convinced that none was in his power. Whatroused him from his watchful reverie was a voice that called his namevery softly, and, looking round, he beheld the Emir Fakredeen on tiptoe, with his finger on his mouth. Baroni rose, and Fakredeen inviting himwith a gesture to leave the tent, he found without the lady of thecaravan. 

'I want the Rose of Sharon to see your lord, ' said the young Emir, veryanxiously, 'for she is a great hakeem among our people. '

'Perhaps in the desert, where there is none to be useful, I might not beuseless, ' said Eva, with some reluctance and reserve. 

'Hope has only one arrow left, ' said Baroni, mournfully. 

'Is it indeed so bad?'

'Oh! save him, Eva, save him!' exclaimed Fakredeen, distractedly. 

She placed her finger on her lip. 

'Or I shall die, ' continued Fakredeen; 'nor indeed have I any wish tolive, if he depart from us. '

Eva conversed apart for a few minutes with Baroni, in a low voice, andthen drawing aside the curtain of the tent, they entered. 

There was no change in the appearance of Tancred, but as they approachedhim he spoke. Baroni dropped into his former position, Fakredeen fellupon his knees, Eva alone was visible when the eyes of Tancred met hers. His vision was not unconscious of her presence; he stared at her withintentness. The change in her dress, however, would, in all probability, have prevented his recognising her even under indifferent circumstances. She was habited as a Bedouin girl; a leathern girdle encircled herblue robe, a few gold coins were braided in her hair, and her head wascovered with a fringed kefia. 

Whatever was the impression made upon Tancred by this unusualapparition, it appeared to be only transient. His glance withdrawn, hisvoice again broke into incoherent but violent exclamations. Suddenly hesaid, with more moderation, but with firmness and distinctness, 'I amguarded by angels. '

Fakredeen shot a glance at Eva and Baroni, as if to remind them of thetenor of the discourse for which he had prepared them. 

After a pause he became somewhat violent, and seemed as if he would havewaved his wounded arm; but Baroni, whose eye, though himself unobserved, never quitted his charge, laid his finger upon the arm, and Tancred didnot struggle. Again he spoke of angels, but in a milder and mournfultone. 

'Methinks you look like one, ' thought Eva, as she beheld his spiritualcountenance lit up by a superhuman fire. 

After a few minutes, she glanced at Baroni, to signify her wish to leavethe tent, and he rose and accompanied her. Fakredeen also rose, withstreaming eyes, and making the sign of the cross. 

'Forgive me, ' he said to Eva, 'but I cannot help it. Whenever I am inaffliction I cannot help remembering that I am a Christian. '

'I wish you would remember it at all times, ' said Eva, 'and then, perhaps, none of us need have been here;' and then not waiting for hisreply, she addressed herself to Baroni. 'I agree with you, ' she said. 'If we cannot give him sleep, he will soon sleep for ever. '

'Oh, give him sleep, Eva, ' said Fakredeen, wringing his hands; 'you cando anything. '

'I suppose, ' said Baroni, 'it is hopeless to think of finding any opiumhere. '

'Utterly, ' said Eva; 'its practice is quite unknown among them. '

'Send for some from El Khuds, ' said Fakredeen. 'Idle!' said Baroni;'this is an affair of hours, not of days. '

'Oh, but I will go, ' exclaimed Fakredeen; 'you do not know what I can doon one of my dromedaries! I will----'

Eva placed her hand on his arm without looking at him, and thencontinued to address Baroni. 

'Through the pass I several times observed a small white and yellowflower in patches. I lost it as we advanced, and yet I should thinkit must have followed the stream. If it be, as I think, but I did notobserve it with much attention, the flower of the mountain arnica, Iknow a preparation from that shrub which has a marvellous action on thenervous system. '

'I am sure it is the mountain arnica, and I am sure it will cure him, 'said Fakredeen. 

'Time presses, ' said Eva to Baroni. 'Call my I maidens to our aid; andfirst of all let us examine the borders of the stream. '

While his friends departed to exert themselves, Fakredeen remainedbehind, and passed his time partly in watching Tancred, partly inweeping, and partly in calculating the amount of his debts. Thislatter was a frequent, and to him inexhaustible, source of interest andexcitement. His creative brain was soon lost in reverie. He conjured upTancred restored to health, a devoted friendship between them, immenseplans, not inferior achievements, and inexhaustible resources. Then, when he remembered that he was himself the cause of the peril of thatprecious life on which all his future happiness and success were todepend, he cursed himself. Involved as were the circumstances in whichhe habitually found himself entangled, the present complication wascertainly not inferior to any of the perplexities which he had hithertoexperienced. 

He was to become the bosom friend of a being whom he had successfullyplotted to make a prisoner and plunder, and whose life was consequentlyendangered; he had to prevail on Amalek to relinquish the ransom whichhad induced the great Sheikh to quit his Syrian pastures, and had costthe lives of some of his most valuable followers; while, on the otherhand, the new moon was rapidly approaching, when the young Emir hadappointed to meet Scheriff Effendi at Gaza, to receive the arms andmunitions which were to raise him to empire, and for which he hadpurposed to pay by a portion of his share in the great plunder whichhe had himself projected. His baffled brain whirled with wild andimpracticable combinations, till, at length, frightened and exhausted, he called for his nargileh, and sought, as was his custom, serenityfrom its magic tube. In this wise more than three hours had elapsed, the young Emir was himself again, and was calculating the average of thevarious rates of interest in every town in Syria, from Gaza to Aleppo, when Baroni returned, bearing in his hand an Egyptian vase. 

'You have found the magic flowers?' asked Fakredeen, eagerly. 

'The flowers of arnica, noble Emir, of which the Lady Eva spoke. I wishthe potion had been made in the new moon; however, it has been blessed. Two things alone now are wanting, that my lord should drink it, and thatit should cure him. '

It was not yet noon when Tancred quaffed the potion. He took it withoutdifficulty, though apparently unconscious of the act. As the sun reachedits meridian height, Tancred sank into a profound slumber. Fakredeenrushed away to tell Eva, who had now retired into the innermostapartments of the pavilion of Amalek; Baroni never quitted the tent ofhis lord. The sun set; the same beautiful rosy tint suffused the tombsand temples of the city as on the evening of their first forced arrival:still Tancred slept. The camels returned from the river, the lightsbegan to sparkle in the circle of black tents: still Tancred slept. Heslept during the day, and he slept during the twilight, and, when thenight came, still Tancred slept. The silver lamp, fed by the oil of thepalm tree, threw its delicate white light over the couch on which herested. Mute, but ever vigilant, Fakredeen and Baroni gazed on theirfriend and master: still Tancred slept. 

It seemed a night that would never end, and, when the first beam of themorning came, the Emir and his companion mutually recognised on theirrespective countenances an expression of distrust, even of terror. StillTancred slept; in the same posture and with the same expression, unmovedand pale. Was it, indeed, sleep? Baroni touched his wrist, but couldfind no pulse; Fakredeen held his bright dagger over the mouth, yet itsbrilliancy was not for a moment clouded. But he was not cold. 

The brow of Baroni was knit with deep thought, and his searching eyefixed upon the recumbent form; Fakredeen, frightened, ran away to Eva. 

'I am frightened, because you are frightened, ' said Fakredeen, 'whomnothing ever alarms. O Rose of Sharon! why are you so pale?'

'It is a stain upon our tents if this youth be lost, ' said Eva in a lowvoice, yet attempting to speak with calmness. 

'But what is it on me!' exclaimed Fakredeen, distractedly. 'A stain! Ishall be branded like Cain. No, I will never enter Damascus again, orany of the cities of the coast. I will give up all my castles to mycousin Francis El Kazin, on condition that he does not pay my creditors. I will retire to Mar Hanna. I will look upon man no more. '

'Be calm, my Fakredeen; there is yet hope; my responsibility at thismoment is surely not lighter than yours. '

'Ah! you did not know him, Eva!' exclaimed Fakredeen, passionately; 'younever listened to him! He cannot be to you what he is to me. I lovedhim!'

She pressed her finger to her lips, for they had arrived at the tent ofTancred. The young Emir, drying his streaming eyes, entered first, andthen came back and ushered in Eva. They stood together by the couch ofTancred. The expression of distress, of suffering, of extreme tension, which had not marred, but which, at least, had mingled with thespiritual character of his countenance the previous day, haddisappeared. If it were death, it was at least beautiful. Softness andrepose suffused his features, and his brow looked as if it had been thetemple of an immortal spirit. 

Eva gazed upon the form with a fond, deep melancholy; Fakredeen andBaroni exchanged glances. Suddenly Tancred moved, heaved a deep sigh, and opened his dark eyes. The unnatural fire which had yesterday litthem up had fled. Calmly and thoughtfully he surveyed those around him, and then he said, 'The Lady of Bethany!'

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

 _The Angel's Message_

BETWEEN the Egyptian and the Arabian deserts, formed by two gulfs of theErythraean Sea, is a peninsula of granite mountains. It seems as if anocean of lava, when its waves were literally running mountains high, hadbeen suddenly commanded to stand still. These successive summits, withtheir peaks and pinnacles, enclose a series of valleys, in general sternand savage, yet some of which are not devoid of pastoral beauty. Theremay be found brooks of silver brightness, and occasionally groves ofpalms and gardens of dates, while the neighbouring heights commandsublime landscapes, the opposing mountains of Asia and Afric, and theblue bosom of two seas. On one of these elevations, more than fivethousand feet above the ocean, is a convent; again, nearly threethousand feet above this convent, is a towering peak, and this is MountSinai. 

On the top of Mount Sinai are two ruins, a Christian church and aMahometan mosque. In this, the sublimest scene of Arabian glory, Israeland Ishmael alike raised their altars to the great God of Abraham. 

Why are they in ruins? Is it that human structures are not to be enduredamid the awful temples of nature and revelation; and that the column andthe cupola crumble into nothingness in sight of the hallowed Horeb andon the soil of the eternal Sinai?

Ascending the mountain, about half way between the convent and theutmost height of the towering peak, is a small plain surrounded byrocks. In its centre are a cypress tree and a fountain. This is thetraditional scene of the greatest event of time. 

Tis night; a solitary pilgrim, long kneeling on the sacred soil, slowlyraises his agitated glance to the starry vault of Araby, and, claspinghis hands in the anguish of devotion, thus prays:--

'O Lord God of Israel, Creator of the Universe, ineffable Jehovah! achild of Christendom, I come to thine ancient Arabian altars to pourforth the heart of tortured Europe. Why art thou silent? Why no longerdo the messages of thy renovating will descend on earth? Faith fades andduty dies. A profound melancholy has fallen on the spirit of man. Thepriest doubts, the monarch cannot rule, the multitude moans and toils, and calls in its frenzy upon unknown gods. If this transfigured mountmay not again behold Thee; if not again, upon thy sacred Syrian plains, Divinity may teach and solace men; if prophets may not rise again toherald hope; at least, of all the starry messengers that guard thythrone, let one appear, to save thy creatures from a terrible despair!'

[Illustration: page2-157]

A dimness suffused the stars of Arabia; the surrounding heights, thathad risen sharp and black in the clear purple air, blended in shadowyand fleeting masses, the huge branches of the cypress tree seemed tostir, and the kneeling pilgrim sank upon the earth senseless and in atrance. 

And there appeared to him a form; a shape that should be human, but vastas the surrounding hills. Yet such was the symmetry of the vision thatthe visionary felt his littleness rather than the colossal proportionsof the apparition. It was the semblance of one who, though not young, was still untouched by time; a countenance like an oriental night, darkyet lustrous, mystical yet clear. Thought, rather than melancholy, spoke from the pensive passion of his eyes, while on his lofty foreheadglittered a star that threw a solemn radiance on the repose of hismajestic features. 

'Child of Christendom, ' said the mighty form, as he seemed slowly towave a sceptre fashioned like a palm tree, 'I am the angel of Arabia, the guardian spirit of that land which governs the world; for power isneither the sword nor the shield, for these pass away, but ideas, whichare divine. The thoughts of all lands come from a higher source thanman, but the intellect of Arabia comes from the Most High. Thereforeit is that from this spot issue the principles which regulate the humandestiny. 

'That Christendom which thou hast quitted, and over whose expiringattributes thou art a mourner, was a savage forest while the cedars ofLebanon, for countless ages, had built the palaces of mighty kings. Yet in that forest brooded infinite races that were to spread over theglobe, and give a new impulse to its ancient life. It was decreed that, when they burst from their wild woods, the Arabian principles shouldmeet them on the threshold of the old world to guide and to civilisethem. All had been prepared. The Cæsars had conquered the world to placethe Laws of Sinai on the throne of the Capitol, and a Galilean Arabadvanced and traced on the front of the rude conquerors of the Caesarsthe subduing symbol of the last development of Arabian principles. 

'Yet again, and Europe is in the throes of a great birth. The multitudesagain are brooding; but they are not now in the forest; they are in thecities and in the fertile plains. Since the first sun of this centuryrose, the intellectual colony of Arabia, once called Christendom, has been in a state of partial and blind revolt. Discontented, theyattributed their suffering to the principles to which they owedall their happiness, and in receding from which they had becomeproportionately miserable. They have hankered after other gods than theGod of Sinai and of Calvary, and they have achieved only desolation. Now they despair. But the eternal principles that controlled barbarianvigour can alone cope with morbid civilisation. The equality of mancan only be accomplished by the sovereignty of God. The longing forfraternity can never be satisfied but under the sway of a common father. The relations between Jehovah and his creatures can be neither toonumerous nor too near. In the increased distance between God and manhave grown up all those developments that have made life mournful. Cease, then, to seek in a vain philosophy the solution of the socialproblem that perplexes you. Announce the sublime and solacing doctrineof theocratic equality. Fear not, faint not, falter not. Obey theimpulse of thine own spirit, and find a ready instrument in every humanbeing. '

A sound, as of thunder, roused Tancred from his trance. He looked aroundand above. There rose the mountains sharp and black in the clear purpleair; there shone, with undimmed lustre, the Arabian stars; but the voiceof the angel still lingered in his ear. He descended the mountain: atits base, near the convent, were his slumbering guards, some steeds, andcrouching camels. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

 _Fakredeen is Curious_

THE beautiful daughter of Besso, pensive and abstracted, played with herbeads in the pavilion of her grandfather. Two of her maidens, who hadattended her, in a corner of this inner compartment, accompanied thewild murmur of their voices on a stringed instrument, which might in theold days have been a psaltery. They sang the loves of Antar and of Ibla, of Leila and of Mejnoun; the romance of the desert, tales of passion andof plunder, of the rescue of women and the capture of camels, of heroeswith a lion heart, and heroines brighter and softer than the moon. 

The beautiful daughter of Besso, pensive and abstracted, played with herbeads in the pavilion of her grandfather. Why is the beautiful daughterof Besso pensive and abstracted? What thoughts are flitting over hermind, silent and soft, like the shadows of birds over the sunshinyearth?

Something that was neither silent nor soft disturbed the lady fromher reverie; the voice of the great Sheikh, in a tone of altitude andharshness, with him most usual. He was in an adjacent apartment, vowingthat he would sooner eat the mother of some third person, who wasattempting to influence him, than adopt the suggestion offered. Thenthere were softer and more persuasive tones from his companion, butevidently ineffectual. Then the voices of both rose together in emulousclamour--one roaring like a bull, the other shrieking like some wildbird; one full of menace, and the other taunting and impertinent. Allthis was followed by a dead silence, which continuing, Eva assumed thatthe Sheikh and his companion had quitted his tent. While her mind wasrecurring to those thoughts which occupied them previously to thisoutbreak, the voice of Fakredeen was heard outside her tent, saying, 'Rose of Sharon, let me come into the harem;' and, scarcely waiting forpermission, the young Emir, flushed and excited, entered, and almostbreathless threw himself on the divan. 

'Who says I am a coward?' he exclaimed, with a glance of devilishmockery. 'I may run away sometimes, but what of that? I have got moralcourage, the only thing worth having since the invention of gunpowder. The beast is not killed, but I have looked into the den; 'tis something. Courage, my fragrant Rose, have faith in me at last. I may make animbroglio sometimes, but, for getting out of a scrape, I would backmyself against any picaroon in the Levant; and that is saying a gooddeal. '

'Another imbroglio?'

'Oh, no! the same; part of the great blunder. You must have heard usraging like a thousand Afrites. I never knew the great Sheikh so wild. '

'And why?'

'He should take a lesson from Mehemet Ali, ' continued the Emir. 'Givingup Syria, after the conquest, was a much greater sacrifice than givingup plunder which he has not yet touched. And the great Pasha did it asquietly as if he were marching into Stamboul instead, which he mighthave done if he had been an Arab instead of a Turk. Everything comesfrom Arabia, my dear Eva, at least everything that is worth anything. Wetwo ought to thank our stars every day that we were born Arabs. '

'And the great Sheikh still harps upon this ransom?' inquired Eva. 

'He does, and most unreasonably. For, after all, what do we ask him togive up? a bagatelle. '

'Hardly that, ' said Eva; 'two millions of piastres can scarcely becalled a bagatelle. '

'It is not two millions of piastres, ' said Fakre-deen; 'there is yourfallacy, 'tis the same as your grandfather's. In the first place, hewould have taken one million; then half belonged to me, which reduceshis share to five hundred thousand; then I meant to have borrowed hisshare of him. '

'Borrowed his share!' said Eva. 

'Of course I should have allowed him interest, good interest. What couldthe great Sheikh want five hundred thousand piastres for? He has camelsenough; he has so many horses that he wants to change some with me forarms at this moment. Is he to dig a hole in the sand by a well-sideto put his treasure in, like the treasure of Solomon; or to sew uphis bills of exchange in his turban? The thing is ridiculous, I nevercontemplated, for a moment, that the great Sheikh should take any hardpiastres out of circulation, to lock them up in the wilderness. It mightdisturb the currency of all Syria, upset the exchanges, and very muchinjure your family, Eva, of whose interests I am never unmindful. Imeant the great Sheikh to invest his capital; he might have made a goodthing of it. I could have afforded to pay him thirty per cent, for hisshare, and made as much by the transaction myself; for you see, as I ampaying sixty per cent, at Beiroot, Tripoli, Latakia, and every accursedtown of the coast at this moment. The thing is clear; and I wish youwould only get your father to view it in the same light, and we might doimmense things! Think of this, my Rose of Sharon, dear, dear Eva, thinkof this; your father might make his fortune and mine too, if he wouldonly lend me money at thirty per cent. '

'You frighten me always, Fakredeen, by these allusions to your affairs. Can it be possible that they are so very bad!'

'Good, Eva, you mean good. I should be incapable of anything, if it werenot for my debts. I am naturally so indolent, that if I did not rememberin the morning that I was ruined, I should never be able to distinguishmyself. '

'You never will distinguish yourself, ' said Eva; 'you never can, withthese dreadful embarrassments. '

'Shall I not?' said Fakredeen, triumphantly. 'What are my debts to myresources? That is the point. You cannot judge of a man by only knowingwhat his debts are; you must be acquainted with his resources. '

'But your estates are mortgaged, your crops sold, at least you tell meso, ' said Eva, mournfully. 

'Estates! crops! A man may have an idea worth twenty estates, aprinciple of action that will bring him in a greater harvest than allLebanon. '

'A principle of action is indeed precious, ' said Eva; 'but although youcertainly have ideas, and very ingenious ones, a principle of action isexactly the thing which I have always thought you wanted. '

'Well, I have got it at last, ' said Fakredeen; 'everything comes if aman will only wait. '

'And what is your principle of action?'

'Faith. '

'In yourself? Surely in that respect you have not hitherto beensceptical?'

'No; in Mount Sinai. '

'In Mount Sinai!'

'You may well be astonished; but so it is. The English prince has beento Mount Sinai, and he has seen an angel. What passed between them Ido not yet know; but one thing is certain, he is quite changed by theinterview. He is all for action: so far as I can form an opinion in thepresent crude state of affairs, it is not at all impossible that he mayput himself at the head of the Asian movement. If you have faith, thereis nothing you may not do. One thing is quite settled, that he willnot at present return to Jerusalem, but, for change of air and otherreasons, make a visit with me to Canobia. '

'He seems to have great purpose in him, ' said Eva, with an air of someconstraint. 

'By-the-bye, ' said Fakredeen, 'how came you, Eva, never to tell me thatyou were acquainted with him?'

'Acquainted with him?' said Eva. 

'Yes; he recognised you immediately when he recovered himself, and hehas admitted to me since that he has seen you before, though I could notget much out of him about it. He will talk for ever about Arabia, faith, war, and angels; but, if you touch on anything personal, I observe heis always very shy. He has not my fatal frankness. Did you know him atJerusalem?'

'I met him by hazard for a moment at Bethany. I neither asked then, nor did he impart to me, his name. How then could I tell you we wereacquainted? or be aware that the stranger of my casual interview wasthis young Englishman whom you have made a captive?'

'Hush!' said Fakredeen, with an air of real or affected alarm. 'Heis going to be my guest at my principal castle. What do you mean bycaptive? You mean whom I have saved from captivity, or am about to save?

'Well, that would appear to be the real question to which you oughtto address yourself at this moment, ' said Eva. 'Were I you, I shouldpostpone the great Asian movement until you had disembarrassed yourselffrom your present position, rather an equivocal one both for a patriotand a friend. '

'Oh! I'll manage the great Sheikh, ' said Fakredeen, carelessly. 'Thereis too much plunder in the future for Amalek to quarrel with me. Whenhe scents the possibility of the Bedouin cavalry being poured into Syriaand Asia Minor, we shall find him more manageable. The only thing nowis to heal the present disappointment by extenuating circumstances. IfI could screw up a few thousand piastres for backsheesh, ' and he lookedEva in the face, 'or could put anything in his way! What do you think, Eva?'

Eva shook her head. 

'What an obstinate Jew dog he is!' said Fakre-deen. 'His rapacity isrevolting!'

'An obstinate Jew dog!' exclaimed Eva, rising, her eyes flashing, hernostrils dilating with contemptuous rage. The manner of Fakredeen hadnot pleased her this morning. His temper, was very uncertain, and, whencrossed, he was deficient in delicacy. Indeed, he was too selfish, with all his sensibility and refined breeding, to be ever sufficientlyconsiderate of the feelings of others. He was piqued also that he hadnot been informed of the previous acquaintance of Eva and Tancred. Herreason for not apprising him of their interview at Bethany, though noteasily impugnable, was not as satisfactory to his understanding as tohis ear. Again, his mind and heart were so absorbed at this moment bythe image of Tancred, and he was so entirely under the influence of hisown idealised conceptions of his new and latest friend, that, accordingto his custom, no other being could interest him. Although he washimself the sole cause of all the difficult and annoying circumstancesin which he found himself involved, the moment that his passions and hisinterests alike required that Tancred should be free and uninjured, he acted, and indeed felt, as if Amalek alone were responsible for thecapture and the detention of Lord Montacute. 

The young Emir indeed was, at this moment, in one of those moods whichhad often marred his popularity, but in which he had never indulgedtowards Eva before. She had, throughout his life, been the commandinginfluence of his being. He adored and feared her, and knew that sheloved, and rather despised him. But Eva had ceased to be the commandinginfluence over Fakredeen. At this moment Fakredeen would have sacrificedthe whole family of Besso to secure the devotion of Tancred; and thecoarse and rude exclamation to which he had given vent, indicated thecurrent of his feelings and the general tenor of his mind. 

Eva knew him by heart. Her clear sagacious intellect, acting upon anindividual whom sympathy and circumstances had combined to make hercomprehend, analysed with marvellous facility his complicated motives, and in general successfully penetrated his sovereign design. 

'An obstinate Jew dog!' she exclaimed; 'and who art thou, thou jackal ofthis lion! who should dare to speak thus? Is it not enough that you haveinvolved us all in unspeakable difficulty and possible disgrace, that weare to receive words of contumely from lips like yours? One would thinkthat you were the English Consul arrived here to make a representationin favour of his countryman, instead of being the individual who plannedhis plunder, occasioned his captivity, and endangered his life! It isa pity that this young noble is not acquainted with your claims to hisconfidence. '

The possibility that in a moment of irritation Eva might reveal hissecret, some rising remorse at what he had said, and the superstitiousreverence with which he still clung to her, all acting upon Fakredeen atthe same time, he felt that he had gone too far, and thereupon he sprangfrom the divan, on which he had been insolently lolling, and threwhimself at the feet of his foster-sister, whimpering and kissing herslippers, and calling her, between his sobs, a thousand fond names. 

'I am a villain, ' he said, 'but you know it; you have always known it. For God's sake, stand by me now; 'tis my only chance. You are the onlybeing I love in the world, except your family. You know how I respectthem. Is not Besso my father? And the great Sheikh, I honour the greatSheikh. He is one of my allies. Even this accursed business proves it. Besides, what do you mean, by words of contumely from my lips? Am I nota Jew myself, or as good? Why should I insult them? I only wish we werein the Land' of Promise, instead of this infernal wilderness. '

'Well, well, let us consult together, ' said Eva, 'reproaches arebarren. '

'Ah! Eva, ' said Fakredeen, 'I am not reproaching you; but if, theevening I was at Bethany, you had only told me that you had just partedwith this Englishman, all this would not have occurred. '

'How do you know that I had then just parted with this Englishman?' saidEva, colouring and confused. 

'Because I marked him on the road. I little thought then that he hadbeen in your retreat. I took him for some Frank, looking after the tombof Lazarus. '

'I found him in my garden, ' said Eva, not entirely at her ease, 'andsent my attendants to him. '

Fakredeen was walking up and down the tent, and seemed lost in thought. Suddenly he stopped and said, 'I see it all; I have a combination thatwill put all right. '

'Put all right?'

'See, the day after to-morrow I have appointed to meet a friend of mineat Gaza, who has a caravan that wants convoy through the desert to themountain. The Sheikh of Sheikhs shall have it. It will be as good as tenthousand piastres. That will be honey in his mouth. He will forget thepast, and our English friend can return with you and me to El Khuds. '

'I shall not return to El Khuds, ' said Eva. 'The great Sheikh willconvoy me to Damascus, where I shall remain till I go to Aleppo. '

'May you never reach Aleppo!' said Fakredeen, with a cloudedcountenance, for Eva in fact alluded to her approaching marriage withher cousin. 

'But after all, ' resumed Eva, wishing to change the current of histhoughts, 'all these arrangements, so far as I am interested, dependupon the success of my mission to the great Sheikh. If he will notrelease my father's charge, the spears of his people will never guardme again. And I see little prospect of my success; nor do I think tenthousand piastres, however honestly gained, will be more tempting thanthe inclination to oblige our house. '

'Ten thousand piastres is not much, ' said Fakredeen. 'I give it everythree months for interest to a little Copt at Beiroot, whose propertyI will confiscate the moment I have the government of the country in myhands. But then I only add my ten thousand piastres to the amount of mydebt. Ten thousand piastres in coin are a very different affair. Theywill jingle in the great Sheikh's purse. His people will think he hasgot the treasure of Solomon. It will do; he will give them all a goldkaireen apiece, and they will braid them in their girls' hair. '

'It will scarcely buy camels for Sheikh Salem's widow, ' said Eva. 

'I will manage that, ' said Fakredeen. 'The great Sheikh has camelsenough, and I will give him arms in exchange. '

'Arms at Canobia will not reach the stony wilderness. '

'No; but I have got arms nearer at hand; that is, my friend, my friendwhom I am going to meet at Gaza, has some; enough, and to spare. By theHoly Sepulchre, I see it!' said Fakredeen. 'I tell you how I will managethe whole business. The great Sheikh wants arms; well, I will givehim five hundred muskets for the ransom, and he shall have the convoybesides. He'll take it. I know him. He thinks now all is lost, and, whenhe finds that he is to have a jingling purse and English muskets enoughto conquer Tadmor, he will close. '

'But how are we to get these arms?' said Eva. 

'Why, Scheriff Effendi, to be sure. You know I am to meet him at Gazathe day after to-morrow, and receive his five thousand muskets. Well, five hundred for the great Sheikh will make them four thousand fivehundred; no great difference. '

'Scheriff Effendi!' said Eva, with some surprise. 'I thought I hadobtained three months' indulgence for you with Scheriff Effendi. '

'Ah! yes--no, ' said Fakredeen, blushing. 'The fact is, Eva, darling, beloved Eva, it is no use telling any more lies. I only asked you tospeak to Scheriff Effendi to obtain time for me about payment to throwyou off the scent, as you so strongly disapproved of my buccaneeringproject. But Scheriff Effendi is a camel. I was obliged to agree to meethim at Gaza on the new moon, pay him his two hundred thousand piastres, and receive the cargo. Well, I turn circumstances to account. The greatSheikh will convey the muskets to the mountains. '

'But who is to pay for them?' inquired Eva. 

'Why, if men want to head the Asian movement, they must have muskets, 'said Fakredeen; 'and, after all, as we are going to save the Englishprince two millions of piastres, I do not think he can object to payingScheriff Effendi for his goods; particularly as he will have the musketsfor his money. '

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

 _Tancred's Recovery_

TANCRED rapidly recovered. On the second day after his recognition ofEva, he had held that conversation with Fakredeen which had determinedthe young Emir not to lose a moment in making the effort to induceAmalek to forego his ransom, the result of which he had communicated toEva on their subsequent interview. On the third day, Tancred rosefrom his couch, and would even have quitted the tent, had not Baronidissuaded him. He was the more induced to do so, for on this day hemissed his amusing companion, the Emir. It appeared from the account ofBaroni, that his highness had departed at dawn, on his dromedary, andwithout an attendant. According to Baroni, nothing was yet settledeither as to the ransom or the release of Tancred. It seemed that thegreat Sheikh had been impatient to return to his chief encampment, andnothing but the illness of Tancred would probably have induced him toremain in the Stony Arabia as long as he had done. The Lady Eva hadnot, since her arrival at the ruined city, encouraged Baroni in anycommunication on the subject which heretofore during their journey hadentirely occupied her consideration, from which he inferred that she hadnothing very satisfactory to relate; yet he was not without hope, as hefelt assured that Eva would not have remained a day were she convincedthat there was no chance of effecting her original purpose. Thecomparative contentment of the great Sheikh at this moment, her silence, and the sudden departure of Fakredeen, induced Baroni to believethat there was yet something on the cards, and, being of a sanguinedisposition, he sincerely encouraged his master, who, however, did notappear to be very desponding. 

'The Emir told me yesterday that he was certain to arrange everything, 'said Tancred, 'without in any way compromising us. We cannot expect suchan adventure to end like a day of hunting. Some camels must be given, and, perhaps, something else. I am sure the Emir will manage it all, especially with the aid and counsel of that beauteous Lady of Bethany, in whose wisdom and goodness I have implicit faith. '

'I have more faith in her than in the Emir, ' said Baroni. 'I never knowwhat these Shehaabs are after. Now, he has not gone to El Khuds thismorning; of that I am sure. '

'I am under the greatest obligations to the Emir Fakredeen, ' saidTancred, 'and independently of such circumstances, I very much likehim. '

'I know nothing against the noble Emir, ' said Baroni, 'and I am surehe has been extremely polite and attentive to your lordship; but stillthose Shehaabs, they are such a set, always after something!'

'He is ardent and ambitious, ' said Tancred, 'and he is young. Are thesefaults? Besides, he has not had the advantage of our stricter training. He has been without guides; and is somewhat undisciplined, andself-formed. But he has a great and interesting position, and isbrilliant and energetic. Providence may have appointed him to fulfilgreat ends. '

'A Shehaab will look after the main chance, ' said Baroni. 

'But his main chance may be the salvation of his country, ' said Tancred. 

'Nothing can save his country, ' said Baroni. 'The Syrians were everslaves. '

'I do not call them slaves now, ' said Tancred; 'why, they are armed andare warlike! All that they want is a cause. '

'And that they never will have, ' said Baroni. 

'Why?'

'The East is used up. '

'It is not more used up than when Mahomet arose, ' said Tancred. 'Weakand withering as may be the government of the Turks, it is not morefeeble and enervated than that of the Greek empire and the Chosroes. '

'I don't know anything about them, ' replied Baroni; 'but I know there isnothing to be done with the people here. I have seen something of them, 'said Baroni. 'M. De Sidonia tried to do something in '39, and, if therehad been a spark of spirit or of sense in Syria, that was the time, but----' and here Baroni shrugged his shoulders. 

'But what was your principle of action in '39?' inquired Tancred, evidently interested. 

'The only principle of action in this world, ' said Baroni; 'we hadplenty of money; we might have had three millions. '

'And if you had had six, or sixteen, your efforts would have beenequally fruitless. I do not believe in national regeneration in theshape of a foreign loan. Look at Greece! And yet a man might climbMount Carmel, and utter three words which would bring the Arabs again toGrenada, and perhaps further. '

'They have no artillery, ' said Baroni. 

'And the Turks have artillery and cannot use it, ' said Lord Montacute. 'Why, the most favoured part of the globe at this moment is entirelydefenceless; there is not a soldier worth firing at in Asia except theSepoys. The Persian, Assyrian, and Babylonian monarchies might be gainedin a morning with faith and the flourish of a sabre. '

'You would have the Great Powers interfering, ' said Baroni. 

'What should I care for the Great Powers, if the Lord of Hosts were onmy side!'

'Why, to be sure they could not do much at Bagdad or Ispahan. '

'Work out a great religious truth on the Persian and Mesopotamianplains, the most exuberant soils in the world with the scantiestpopulation, --it would revivify Asia. It must spread. The peninsula ofArabia, when in action, must always command the peninsula of the LesserAsia. Asia revivified would act upon Europe. The European comfort, whichthey call civilisation, is, after all, confined to a very small space:the island of Great Britain, France, and the course of a single river, the Rhine. The greater part of Europe is as dead as Asia, without theconsolation of climate and the influence of immortal traditions. '

'I just found time, my lord, when I was at Jerusalem, to call in at theConsulate, and see the Colonel, ' said Baroni; 'I thought it as well toexplain the affair a little to him. I found that even the rumour of ourmischance had not reached him; so I said enough to prevent any alarmwhen it arrived; he will believe that we furnished him with the priorityof intelligence, and he expects your daily return. '

'You did well to call; we know not what may happen. I doubt, however, whether I shall return to Jerusalem. If affairs are pleasantly arrangedhere, I think of visiting the Emir, at his castle of Canobia. A changeof air must be the best thing for me, and Lebanon, by his account, isdelicious at this season. Indeed, I want air, and I must go out now, Baroni; I cannot stay in this close tent any longer; the sun has set, and there is no longer any fear of those fatal heats of which you are insuch dread for me. '

It was the first night of the new moon, and the white beams of theyoung crescent were just beginning to steal over the lately flushedand empurpled scene. The air was still glowing, and the evening breeze, which sometimes wandered through the ravines from the gulf of Akabah, had not yet arrived. Tancred, shrouded in his Bedouin cloak, andaccompanied by Baroni, visited the circle of black tents, which theyfound almost empty, the whole band, with the exception of the scouts, who are always on duty in an Arab encampment, being assembled in theruins of the amphitheatre, in whose arena, opposite to the pavilion ofthe great Sheikh, a celebrated poet was reciting the visit of Antar tothe temple of the fire-worshippers, and the adventures of that greatestof Arabian heroes among the effeminate and astonished courtiers of thegenerous and magnificent Nushirvan. 

The audience was not a scanty one, for this chosen detachment of thechildren of Rechab had been two hundred strong, and the great majorityof them were now assembled; some seated as the ancient Idumæans, on thestill entire seats of the amphitheatre; most squatted in groups upon theground, though at a respectful distance from the poet; others standingamid the crumbling pile and leaning against the tall dark fragments justbeginning to be silvered by the moonbeam; but in all their countenances, their quivering features, their flashing eyes, the mouth open withabsorbing suspense, were expressed a wild and vivid excitement, the heatof sympathy, and a ravishing delight. 

When Antar, in the tournament, overthrew the famous Greek knight, whohad travelled from Constantinople to beard the court of Persia; when hecaught in his hand the assassin spear of the Persian satrap, envious ofhis Arabian chivalry, and returned it to his adversary's heart; when heshouted from his saddle that he was the lover of Ibla and the horsemanof the age, the audience exclaimed with rapturous earnestness, 'It istrue, it is true!' although they were guaranteeing the assertions of ahero who lived, and loved, and fought more than fourteen hundred yearsbefore. Antar is the Iliad of the desert; the hero is the passion of theBedouins. They will listen for ever to his forays, when he raisedthe triumphant cry of his tribe, 'Oh! by Abs; oh! by Adnan, ' to thenarratives of the camels he captured, the men he slew, and the maidensto whose charms he was indifferent, for he was 'ever the lover of Ibla. 'What makes this great Arabian invention still more interesting is, thatit was composed at a period antecedent to the Prophet; it describes thedesert before the Koran; and it teaches us how little the dwellers in itwere changed by the introduction and adoption of Islamism. 

As Tancred and his companion reached the amphitheatre, a ringing laughresounded. 

'Antar is dining with the King of Persia after his victory, ' saidBaroni; 'this is a favourite scene with the Arabs. Antar asks thecourtiers the name of every dish, and whether the king dines so everyday. He bares his arms, and chucks the food into his mouth without evermoving his jaws. They have heard this all their lives, but always laughat it with the same heartiness. Why, Shedad, son of Amroo, ' continuedBaroni to an Arab near him, 'you have listened to this ever since youfirst tasted liban, and it still pleases you!'

'I am never wearied with listening to fine language, ' said the Bedouin;'perfumes are always sweet, though you may have smelt them a thousandtimes. '

Except when there was some expression of feeling elicited by theperformance, a shout or a laugh, the silence was absolute. Not a whispercould be heard; and it was in a muffled tone that Baroni intimated toTancred that the great Sheikh was present, and that, as this was hisfirst appearance since his illness, he must pay his respects to Amalek. So saying, and preceding Tancred, in order that he might announce hisarrival, Baroni approached the pavilion. The great Sheikh welcomedTancred with a benignant smile, motioned to him to sit upon his carpet;rejoiced that he was recovered; hoped that he should live a thousandyears; gave him his pipe, and then, turning again to the poet, wasinstantly lost in the interest of his narrative. Baroni, standing asnear Tancred as the carpet would permit him, occasionally leant over andgave his lord an intimation of what was occurring. 

After a little while, the poet ceased. Then there was a general hum andgreat praise, and many men said to each other, 'All this is true, for myfather told it to me before. ' The great Sheikh, who was highly pleased, ordered his slaves to give the poet a cup of coffee, and, taking fromhis own vest an immense purse, more than a foot in length, he extractedfrom it, after a vast deal of research, one of the smallestof conceivable coins, which the poet pressed to his lips, and, notwithstanding the exiguity of the donation, declared that God wasgreat. 

'O Sheikh of Sheikhs, ' said the poet, 'what I have recited, though it isby the gift of God, is in fact written, and has been ever since the daysof the giants; but I have also dipped my pen into my own brain, andnow I would recite a poem which I hope some day may be suspended in thetemple of Mecca. It is in honour of one who, were she to rise to oursight, would be as the full moon when it rises over the desert. Yes, Ising of Eva, the daughter of Amalek (the Bedouins always omitted Bessoin her genealogy), Eva, the daughter of a thousand chiefs. May she neverquit the tents of her race! May she always ride upon Nejid steeds anddromedaries, with harness of silver! May she live among us for ever! Mayshe show herself to the people like a free Arabian maiden!'

'They are the thoughts of truth, ' said the delighted Bedouins to oneanother; 'every word is a pearl. '

And the great Sheikh sent a slave to express his Wish that Eva and hermaidens should appear. So she came to listen to the ode which the poethad composed in her honour. He had seen palm trees, but they were not astall and graceful as Eva; he had beheld the eyes of doves and antelopes, but they were not as bright and soft as hers; he had tasted the freshsprings in the wilderness, but they were not more welcome than she; andthe soft splendour of the desert moon was not equal to her brow. Shewas the daughter of Amalek, the daughter of a thousand chiefs. Mightshe live for ever in their tents; ever ride on Nejid steeds and ondromedaries with silver harness; ever show herself to the people like afree Arabian maiden!

The poet, after many variations on this theme, ceased amid greatplaudits. 

'He is a true poet, ' said an Arab, who was, like most of his brethren, acritic; 'he is in truth a second Antar. '

'If he had recited these verses before the King of Persia, he would havegiven him a thousand camels, ' replied his neighbour, gravely. 

'They ought to be suspended in the temple of Mecca, ' said a third. 

'What I most admire is his image of the full moon; that cannot be-toooften introduced, ' said a fourth. 

'Truly the moon should ever shine, ' said a fifth. 'Also in all trulyfine verses there should be palm trees and fresh springs. '

Tancred, to whom Baroni had conveyed the meaning of the verses, was alsopleased; having observed that, on a previous occasion, the great Sheikhhad rewarded the bard, Tancred ventured to take a chain, which hefortunately chanced to wear, from, his neck, and sent it to the poet ofEva. This made a great sensation, and highly delighted the Arabs. 

'Truly this is the brother of queens, ' they whispered to each other. 

Now the audience was breaking up and dispersing, and Tancred, rising, begged permission of his host to approach Eva, who was seated at theentrance of the pavilion, somewhat withdrawn from them. 

'If I were a poet, ' said Tancred, bending before her, 'I would attemptto express my gratitude to the Lady of Bethany. I hope, ' he added, aftera moment's pause, 'that Baroni laid my message at your feet. When Ibegged your permission to thank you in person to-morrow, I had notimagined that I should have been so wilful as to quit the tent tonight. '

'It will not harm you, ' said Eva; 'our Arabian nights bear balm. '

'I feel it, ' said Tancred; 'this evening will complete the cure you sobenignantly commenced. '

'Mine were slender knowledge and simple means, ' said Eva; 'but I rejoicethat they were of use, more especially as I learn that we are allinterested in your pilgrimage. 

'The Emir Fakredeen has spoken to you?' said Tancred, inquiringly, andwith a countenance a little agitated. 

'He has spoken to me of some things for which our previous conversationhad not entirely unprepared me. '

'Ah!' said Tancred, musingly, 'our previous conversation. It is notvery long ago since I slumbered by the side of your fountain, and yet itseems to me an age, an age of thought and events. '

'Yet even then your heart was turned towards our unhappy Asia, ' said theLady of Bethany. 

'Unhappy Asia! Do you call it unhappy Asia! This land of divine deedsand divine thoughts! Its slumber is more vital than the waking life ofthe rest of the globe, as the dream of genius is more precious thanthe vigils of ordinary men. Unhappy Asia, do you call it? It is theunhappiness of Europe over which I mourn. '

'Europe, that has conquered Hindustan, protects Persia and Asia Minor, affects to have saved Syria, ' said Eva, with some bitterness. 'Oh! whatcan we do against Europe?'

'Save it, ' said Tancred. 

'We cannot save ourselves; what means have we to save others?'

'The same you have ever exercised, Divine Truth. Send forth a greatthought, as you have done before, from Mount Sinai, from the villages ofGalilee, from the deserts of Arabia, and you may again remodel alltheir institutions, change their principles of action, and breathe a newspirit into the whole scope of their existence. '

'I have sometimes dreamed such dreams, ' murmured Eva, looking down. 'No, no, ' she exclaimed, raising her head, after a moment's pause, 'it isimpossible. Europe is too proud, with its new command over nature, tolisten even to prophets. Levelling mountains, riding without horses, sailing without winds, how can these men believe that there is anypower, human or divine, superior to themselves?'

'As for their command over nature, 'said Tancred, 'let us see how it willoperate in a second deluge. Command over nature! Why, the humblest rootthat serves for the food of man has mysteriously withered throughoutEurope, and they are already pale at the possible consequences. Thisslight eccentricity of that nature which they boast they can command hasalready shaken empires, and may decide the fate of nations. No, gentlelady, Europe is not happy. Amid its false excitement, its bustlinginvention, and its endless toil, a profound melancholy broods over itsspirit and gnaws at its heart. In vain they baptise their tumult by thename of progress; the whisper of a demon is ever asking them, "Progress, from whence and to what?" Excepting those who still cling to yourArabian creeds, Europe, that quarter of the globe to which God has neverspoken, Europe is without consolation. '

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

 _Freedom_

THREE or four days had elapsed since the departure of Fakredeen, andduring each of them Tancred saw Eva; indeed, his hours were much passedin the pavilion of the great Sheikh, and, though he was never alone withthe daughter of Besso, the language which they spoke, unknown to thoseabout them, permitted them to confer without restraint on those subjectsin which they were interested. Tancred opened his mind without reserveto Eva, for he liked to test the soundness of his conclusions by herclear intelligence. Her lofty spirit harmonised with his own high-tonedsoul. He found both sympathy and inspiration in her heroic purposes. Herpassionate love of her race, her deep faith in the destiny and geniusof her Asian land, greatly interested him. To his present position shereferred occasionally, but with reluctance; it seemed as if she thoughtit unkind entirely to pass it over, yet that to be reminded of itwas not satisfactory. Of Fakredeen she spoke much and frequently. Sheexpressed with frankness, even with warmth, her natural and deep regardfor him, the interest she took in his career, and the high opinion sheentertained of his powers; but she lamented his inventive restlessness, which often arrested action, and intimated how much he might profitby the counsels of a friend more distinguished for consistency andsternness of purpose. 

In the midst of all this, Fakredeen returned. He came in the earlymorning, and immediately repaired to the pavilion of the great Sheikh, with whom he was long closeted. Baroni first brought the news toTancred, and subsequently told him that the quantity of nargilehs smokedby the young Emir indicated not only a prolonged, but a difficult, controversy. Some time after this, Tancred, lounging in front of histent, and watching the shadows as they stole over the mountain tombs, observed Fakredeen issue from the pavilion of Amalek. His flushed andradiant countenance would seem to indicate good news. As he recognisedTancred, he saluted him in the Eastern fashion, hastily touching hisheart, his lip, and his brow. When he had reached Tancred, Fakredeenthrew himself in his arms, and, embracing him, whispered in an agitatedvoice on the breast of Lord Montacute, 'Friend of my heart, you arefree!'

In the meantime, Amalek announced to his tribe that at sunset theencampment would break up, and they would commence their return to theSyrian wilderness, through the regions eastward of the Dead Sea. TheLady Eva would accompany them, and the children of Rechab were to havethe honour of escorting her and her attendants to the gates of Damascus. A detachment of five-and-twenty Beni-Rechab were to accompany Fakredeenand Tancred, Hassan and his Jellaheens, in a contrary direction of thedesert, until they arrived at Gaza, where they were to await furtherorders from the young Emir. 

No sooner was this intelligence circulated than the silence which hadpervaded the desert ruins at once ceased. Men came out of every tent andtomb. All was bustle and noise. They chattered, they sang, they talkedto their horses, they apprised their camels of the intended expedition. They declared that the camels had consented to go; they anticipated aprosperous journey; they speculated on what tribes they might encounter. 

It required all the consciousness of great duties, all the inspirationof a great purpose, to sustain Tancred under this sudden separationfrom Eva. Much he regretted that it was not also his lot to traverse theSyrian wilderness, but it was not for him to interfere with arrangementswhich he could neither control nor comprehend. All that passed amidthe ruins of this desert city was as incoherent and restless as theincidents of a dream; yet not without the bright passages of strangefascination which form part of the mosaic of our slumbering reveries. At dawn a prisoner, at noon a free man, yet still, from his position, unable to move without succour, and without guides; why he was captured, how he was enfranchised, alike mysteries; Tancred yielded without astruggle to the management of that individual who was clearly masterof the situation. Fakredeen decided upon everything, and no one wasinclined to impugn the decrees of him whose rule commenced by conferringfreedom. 

It was only half an hour to sunset. The advanced guard of the childrenof Rechab, mounted on their dromedaries, and armed with lances, hadsome hours ago quitted the ruins. The camels, laden with the tents andbaggage, attended by a large body of footmen with matchlocks, and who, on occasion, could add their own weight to the burden of their charge, were filing through the mountains; some horsemen were galloping aboutthe plain and throwing the jereed; a considerable body, most of themdismounted, but prepared for the seat, were collected by the river side;about a dozen steeds of the purest race, one or two of them caparisoned, and a couple of dromedaries, were picketed before the pavilion of thegreat Sheikh, which was not yet struck, and about which some grooms weresquatted, drinking coffee, and every now and then turning to the horses, and addressing them in tones of the greatest affection and respect. 

Suddenly one of the grooms jumped up and said, 'He comes;' and thengoing up to a bright bay mare, whose dark prominent eye equalled inbrilliancy, and far exceeded in intelligence, the splendid orbs ofthe antelope, he addressed her, and said, 'O Diamond of Derayeh, thePrincess of the desert can alone ride on thee!'

There came forth from his pavilion the great Amalek, accompanied by someof his Sheikhs; there came forth from the pavilion Eva, attended by hergigantic Nubian and her maidens; there came forth from the pavilion theEmir Fakredeen and Lord Mon-tacute. 

'There is but one God, ' said the great Sheikh as he pressed his hand tohis heart, and bade farewell to the Emir and his late prisoner. 'May heguard over us all!'

'Truly there is but one God, ' echoed the attendant Sheikhs. 'May youfind many springs!'

The maidens were placed on their dromedaries; the grooms, as if bymagic, had already struck the pavilion of their Sheikh, and were stowingit away on the back of a camel; Eva, first imprinting on the neck of themare a gentle embrace, vaulted into the seat of the Diamond of Derayeh, which she rode in the fashion of Zenobia. To Tancred, with her inspiredbrow, her cheek slightly flushed, her undulating figure, her eye proudof its dominion over the beautiful animal which moved its head withhaughty satisfaction at its destiny, Eva seemed the impersonation ofsome young classic hero going forth to conquer a world. 

Striving to throw into her countenance and the tones of her voice acheerfulness which was really at this moment strange to them, shesaid, 'Farewell, Fakredeen!' and then, after a moment's hesitation, and looking at Tancred with a faltering glance which yet made his hearttremble, she added, 'Farewell, Pilgrim of Sinai. '

CHAPTER XL. 

 _The Romantic Story of Baroni_

THE Emir of the Lebanon and his English friend did not depart from thedesert city until the morrow, Fakredeen being so wearied by his journeythat he required repose. 

Unsustained by his lively conversation, Tancred felt all the depressionnatural to his position; and, restless and disquieted, wandered aboutthe valley in the moonlight, recalling the vanished images of the past. After some time, unable himself to sleep, and finding Baroni disinclinedto slumber, he reminded his attendant of the promise he had once givenat Jerusalem, to tell something of his history. Baroni was a livelynarrator, and, accompanied by his gestures, his speaking glance, andall the pantomime of his energetic and yet controlled demeanour, thenarrative, as he delivered it, would have been doubtless much moreamusing than the calmer form in which, upon reflection, we have thoughtfit to record some incidents which the reader must not in any degreesuppose to form merely an episode in this history. With this observationwe solicit attention to

_The history of the Baroni family. _

BEING A CHAPTER IN THE LIFE OF SIDONIA. 

I. 

'I had no idea that you had a garrison here, ' said Sidonia, as thedistant sounds of martial music were wafted down a long, ancientstreet, that seemed narrower than it was from the great elevation ofits fantastically-shaped houses, into the principal square in which wassituate his hotel. The town was one of the least frequented of Flanders;and Sidonia, who was then a youth, scarcely of twenty summers, was onhis rambling way to Frankfort, where he then resided. 

'It is not the soldiers, ' said the Flemish maiden in attendance, and whowas dressed in one of those pretty black silk jackets that seem toblend so well with the sombre yet picturesque dwellings of the SpanishNetherlands. 'It is not the soldiers, sir; it is only the Baronifamily. '

'And who are the Baroni family?'

'They are Italians, sir, and have been here this week past, giving somerepresentations. '

'Of what kind?'

'I hardly know, sir, only I have heard that they are very beautiful. There is tumbling, I know for certain; and there was the Plagues ofEgypt; but I believe it changes every night. '

'And you have not yet seen them?'

'Oh no, sir, it is not for such as me; the second places are half afranc!'

'And what is your name?' said Sidonia. 

'Thérèse; at your service, sir. '

'You shall go and see the Baroni family to-night, Thérèse, if yourmistress will let you. '

'I am sure she would if you would ask her, sir, ' said Thérèse, lookingdown and colouring with delight. The little jacket seemed very agitated. 

'Here they come!' said Sidonia, looking out of the window on the greatsquare. 

A man, extremely good-looking and well made, in the uniform of a marshalof France, his cocked hat fringed and plumed, and the colour of his coatalmost concealed by its embroidery, played a clarionet like a master;four youths of a tender age, remarkable both for their beauty and theirgrace, dressed in very handsome scarlet uniforms, with white scarfs, performed upon French horns and similar instruments with great energyand apparent delight; behind them an honest Blouse, hired for theoccasion, beat the double drum. 

'Two of them are girls, ' said Thérèse; 'and they are all the samefamily, except the drummer, who belongs, I hear, to Ypres. Sometimesthere are six of them, two little ones, who, I suppose, are left at hometo-day; they look quite like little angels; the boy plays the triangleand his sister beats a tambourine. '

'They are great artists, ' murmured Sidonia to himself, as he listened totheir performance of one of Donizetti's finest compositions. The fatherstood in the centre of the great square, the other musicians formed acircle round him; they continued their performance for about ten minutesto a considerable audience, many of whom had followed them, while therest had collected at their appearance. There was an inclination in thecurious multitude to press around the young performers, who would havebeen in a great degree hidden from general view by this discourteousmovement, and even the sound of their instruments in some measuresuppressed. Sidonia marked with interest the calm and commanding mannerwith which, under these circumstances, the father controlled the people. They yielded in an instant to his will: one tall blacksmith seemedscarcely to relish his somewhat imperious demeanour, and stood rooted tothe ground; but Baroni, placing only one hand on the curmudgeon's brawnyshoulder, while he still continued playing on his instrument with theother, whirled him away like a puppet. The multitude laughed, and thedisconcerted blacksmith slunk away. 

When the air was finished, Baroni took off his grand hat, and in a loudvoice addressed the assembled people, informing them that this evening, in the largest room of the Auberge of St. Nicholas, there would be avariety of entertainments, consisting of masterpieces of strength andagility, dramatic recitations, dancing and singing, to conclude with themystery of the Crucifixion of our blessed Lord and Saviour; in which allthe actors in that memorable event, among others the blessed Virgin, the blessed St. Mary Magdalene, the Apostles, Pontius Pilate, the HighPriest of the Jews, and many others, would appear, all to be representedby one family. 

The speaker having covered himself, the band again formed and passedthe window of Sidonia's hotel, followed by a stream of idle amateurs, animated by the martial strain, and attracted by the pleasure of hearinganother fine performance at the next quarter of the town, where theBaroni family might halt to announce the impending amusements of theevening. 

The moon was beginning to glitter, when Sidonia threw his cloak aroundhim, and asked the way to the Auberge of St. Nicholas. It was a large, ungainly, whitewashed house, at the extremity of a suburb where thestraggling street nearly ceased, and emptied itself into what in Englandwould have been called a green. The many windows flared with lights, thedoorway was filled with men smoking, and looking full of importance, asif, instead of being the usual loungers of the tavern, they were aboutto perform a principal part in the exhibition; they made way withrespectful and encouraging ceremony to any one who entered to form partof the audience, and rated with sharp words, and sometimes a ready cuff, a mob of little boys who besieged the door, and implored every one whoentered to give them tickets to see the Crucifixion. 'It's the lastpiece, ' they perpetually exclaimed, 'and we may come in for five sous ahead. '

Sidonia mounted the staircase, and, being a suitor for a ticket for theprincipal seats, was received with a most gracious smile by a prettywoman, fair-faced and arch, with a piquant nose and a laughing blueeye, who sat at the door of the room. It was a long and rather narrowapartment; at the end, a stage of rough planks, before a kind ofcurtain, the whole rudely but not niggardly lighted. Unfortunately forthe Baroni family, Sidonia found himself the only first-class spectator. There was a tolerable sprinkling of those who paid half a franc fortheir amusement. These were separated from the first row, which Sidoniaalone was to occupy; in the extreme distance was a large space notfitted up with benches, where the miscellaneous multitude, who couldsummon up five sous apiece later in the evening, to see the Crucifixion, were to be stowed. 

'It hardly pays the lights, ' said the pretty woman at the door. 'We havenot had good fortune in this town. It seems hard, when there is so muchfor the money, and the children take such pains in going the rounds inthe morning. '

'And you are Madame Baroni?' said Sidonia. 

'Yes; I am the mother, ' she replied. 

'I should have thought you had been their sister, ' said Sidonia. 

'My eldest son is fifteen! I often wish that he was anything else butwhat he is, but we do not like to separate. We are all one family, sir, and that makes us bear many things. '

'Well, I think I know a way to increase your audience, ' said Sidonia. 

'Indeed! I am sure it is very kind of you to say so much; we have notmet with a gentleman like you the whole time we have been here. '

Sidonia descended the stairs; the smoking amateurs made way for himwith great parade, and pushed back with equal unkindness the young andwistful throng who still hovered round the portal. 

'Don't you see the gentleman wants to go by? Get back, you boys!'

Sidonia halted on the doorway, and, taking advantage of a momentarypause, said, 'All the little boys are to come in free. '

What a rush!

The performances commenced by the whole of the Baroni family appearingin a row, and bowing to the audience. The father was now dressed ina Greek costume, which exhibited to perfection his compact frame: helooked like the captain of a band of Palikari; on his left appeared themother, who, having thrown off her cloak, seemed a sylph or a sultana, for her bonnet had been succeeded by a turban. The three girls wereon her left hand, and on the right of her husband were their threebrothers. The eldest son, Francis, resembled his father, or rather waswhat his father must have been in all the freshness of boyhood; thesame form of blended strength and symmetry; the same dark eye, the samedetermined air and regular features which in time would become stronglymarked. The second boy, Alfred, about eleven, was delicate, fair, andfragile, like his mother; his sweet countenance, full of tenderness, changed before the audience with a rapid emotion. The youngest son, Michel, was an infant of four years, and with his large blue eyes andlong golden hair, might have figured as one of the seraphs of Murillo. 

There was analogy in the respective physical appearances of the brothersand the sisters. The eldest girl, Josephine, though she had only countedtwelve summers, was in stature, and almost in form, a woman. She wasstrikingly handsome, very slender, and dark as night. Adelaide, incolour, in look, in the grace of every gesture, and in the gushingtenderness of her wild, yet shrinking glance, seemed the twin of Alfred. The little Carlotta, more than two years older than Michel, was theminiature of her mother, and had a piquant coquettish air, mixed withan expression of repose in one so young quite droll, like a little operadancer. The father clapped his hands, and all, except himself, turnedround, bowed to the audience, and retired, leaving Baroni and his twoelder children. Then commenced a variety of feats of strength. Baronistretched forth his right arm, and Josephine, with a bound, instantlysprang upon his shoulder; while she thus remained, balancing herselfonly on her left leg, and looking like a flying Victory, her fatherstretched forth his left arm, and Francis sprang upon the shoulderopposite to his sister, and formed with her a group which might havecrowned a vase. Infinite were the postures into which, for more thanhalf an hour, the brother and sister threw their flexible forms, and allalike distinguished for their agility, their grace, and their precision. At length, all the children, with the exception of Carlotta, glided frombehind the curtain, and clustered around their father with a quicknesswhich baffled observation. Alfred and Adelaide suddenly appeared, mounted upon Josephine and Francis, who had already resumed their formerpositions on the shoulders of their father, and stood immovable withoutstretched arms, while their brother and sister balanced themselvesabove. This being arranged, Baroni caught up the young Michel, and, asit were, flung him up on high; Josephine received the urchin, and tossedhim up to Adelaide, and in a moment the beautiful child was crowning theliving pyramid, his smiling face nearly touching the rough ceiling ofthe chamber, and clapping his little hands with practised triumph, asBaroni walked about the stage with the breathing burden. 

He stopped, and the children disappeared from his shoulders, like birdsfrom a tree when they hear a sound. He clapped his hands, they turnedround, bowed, and vanished. 

'As this feat pleases you, ' said the father, 'and as we have a gentlemanhere to-night who has proved himself a liberal patron of artists, I willshow you something that I rarely exhibit; I will hold the whole ofthe Baroni family with my two hands;' and hereupon addressing somestout-looking fellows among his audience, he begged them to come forwardand hold each end of a plank that was leaning against the wall, onewhich had not been required for the quickly-constructed stage. This theydid with some diffidence, and with that air of constraint characteristicof those who have been summoned from a crowd to perform something whichthey do not exactly comprehend. 

'Be not afraid, my good friends, ' said Baroni to them, as Francislightly sprang on one end of the plank, and Josephine on the other; thenAlfred and Adelaide skipped up together at equal distances; so that thefour children were now standing in attitude upon the same basis, whichfour stout men endeavoured, with difficulty, to keep firm. At thatmoment Madame Baroni, with the two young children, came from behind thecurtain, and vaulted exactly on the middle of the board, so that thebold Michel on the one side, and the demure Carlotta on the other, completed the group. 'Thank you, my friends, ' said Baroni, slippingunder the plank, which was raised to a height which just admitted him topass under it, 'I will release you, ' and with his outstretched hands hesustained the whole burthen, the whole of the Baroni family supported bythe father. 

After this there was a pause of a few minutes, the stage was cleared andBaroni, in a loose great-coat, appeared at its side with a violin. Heplayed a few bars, then turning to the audience, said with the samecontemptuous expression, which always distinguished him when headdressed them, 'Now you are going to hear a scene from a tragedy of thegreat Racine, one of the greatest tragedy writers that ever existed, ifyou may never have heard him; but if you were at Paris, and went to thegreat theatre, you would find that what I am telling you is true. ' AndJosephine advanced, warmly cheered by the spectators, who thought thatthey were going to have some more tumbling. She advanced, however, asAndromache. It seemed to Sidonia that he had never listened to a voicemore rich and passionate, to an elocution more complete; he gazed withadmiration on her lightning glance and all the tumult of her noble brow. As she finished, he applauded her with vehemence. He was standing nearto her father leaning against the wall. 

'Your daughter is a great actress, ' he said to Baroni. 

'I sometimes think so, ' said the father, turning round with somecourtesy to Sidonia, whom he recognised as the liberal stranger who hadso kindly increased his meagre audience; 'I let her do this to pleaseherself. She is a good girl, but very few of the respectable savageshere speak French. However, she likes it. Adelaide is now going to sing;that will suit them better. '

Then there were a few more bars scraped on the violin, and Adelaide, glowing rather than blushing, with her eyes first on the ground and thenon the ceiling, but in all her movements ineffable grace, came forwardand courtesied. She sang an air of Auber and of Bellini: a voice of therarest quality, and, it seemed to Sidonia, promising almost illimitablepower. 

'Your family is gifted, ' he said to Baroni, as he applauded his seconddaughter as warmly as the first; and the audience applauded her too. 

'I sometimes think so. They are all very good. I am afraid, however, that this gift will not serve her much. The good-natured savages seempleased. Carlotta now is going to dance; that will suit them better. Shehas had good instruction. Her mother was a dancer. '

And immediately, with her lip a little curling, a look of completeself-possession, willing to be admired, yet not caring to conceal herdisgust, the little Carlotta advanced, and, after pointing her toe, threw a glance at her father to announce that he might begin. He playedwith more care and energy than for the other sisters, for Carlotta wasexceedingly wilful and imperious, and, if the music jarred, would oftenstop, shrug her shoulders, and refuse to proceed. Her mother dotedon her; even the austere Baroni, who ruled his children like a Pasha, though he loved them, was a little afraid of Carlotta. 

The boards were coarse and rough, some even not sufficiently tightened, but it seemed to Sidonia, experienced as he was in the schools of Paris, London, and Milan, that he had never witnessed a more brilliant facilitythan that now displayed by this little girl. Her soul, too, was entirelyin her art; her countenance generally serious and full of thought, yet occasionally, when a fine passage had been successfully achieved, radiant with triumph and delight. She was cheered, and cheered, and cheered; but treated the applause, when she retired, with greatindifference. Fortunately, Sidonia had a rose in his button-hole, andhe stepped forward and presented it to her. This gratified Carlotta, whobestowed on him a glance full of coquetry. 

'And now, ' said Baroni, to the people, 'you are going to see thecrucifixion of Jesus Christ: all the tableaux are taken from picturesby the most famous artists that ever lived, Raphael, Rubens, and others. Probably you never heard of them. I can't help that; it is not my fault;all I can say is, that if you go to the Vatican and other galleries, you may see them. There will be a pause of ten minutes, for the childrenwant rest. '

Now there was a stir and a devouring of fruit; Baroni, who was on thepoint of going behind the curtain, came forward, and there was silenceagain to listen to him. 

'I understand, ' he said, roughly, 'there is a collection going to bemade for the children; mind, I ask no one to subscribe to it; no oneobliges me by giving anything to it; it is for the children and thechildren alone, they have it to spend, that is all. '

The collectors were Michel and Adelaide. Michel was always successful ata collection. He was a great favourite, and wonderfully bold; he wouldpush about in the throng like a Hercules, whenever anyone called outto him to fetch a Hard. Adelaide, who carried the box, was much tooretiring, and did not like the business at all; but it was her turn, and she could not avoid it. No one gave them more than a sou. It is due, however, to the little boys who were admitted free, to state that theycontributed handsomely; indeed, they expended all the money they hadin the exhibition room, either in purchasing fruit, or in bestowingbacksheesh on the performers. 

'_Encore un liard pour Michel_, ' was called out by several of them, inorder to make Michel rush back, which he did instantly at the excitingsound, ready to overwhelm the hugest men in his resistless course. 

At last, Adelaide, holding the box in one hand and her brother by theother, came up to Sidonia, and cast her eyes upon the ground. 

'For Michel, ' said Sidonia, dropping a five-franc piece into the box. 

'A piece of a hundred sous!' said Michel. 

'And a piece of a hundred sous for yourself and each of your brothersand sisters, Adelaide, ' said Sidonia, giving her a purse. 

Michel gave a shout, but Adelaide blushed very much, kissed his hand, and skipped away. When she had got behind the curtain, she jumped on herfather's neck, and burst into tears. Madame Baroni, not knowing what hadoccurred, and observing that Sidonia could command from his position aview of what was going on in their sanctuary, pulled the curtain, anddeprived Sidonia of a scene which interested him. 

About ten minutes after this, Baroni again appeared in his roughgreat-coat, and with his violin. He gave a scrape or two, and theaudience became orderly. He played an air, and then turning to Sidonia, looking at him with great scrutiny, he said, 'Sir, you are a prince. '

'On the contrary, ' said Sidonia, 'I am nothing; I am only an artist likeyourself. '

'Ah!' said Baroni, 'an artist like myself! I thought so. You havetaste. And what is your line? Some great theatre, I suppose, whereeven if one is ruined, one at least has the command of capital. 'Tis aposition. I have none. But I have no rebels in my company, no traitors. With one mind and heart we get on, and yet sometimes----' and here asignal near him reminded him that he must be playing another air, and ina moment the curtain separated in the middle, and exhibited a circularstage on which there were various statues representing the sacred story. 

There were none of the usual means and materials of illusion at hand;neither space, nor distance, nor cunning lights; it was a confinedtavern room with some glaring tapers, and Sidonia himself was almostwithin arm's reach of the performers. Yet a representation morecomplete, more finely conceived, and more perfectly executed, he hadnever witnessed. It was impossible to credit that these marble forms, impressed with ideal grace, so still, so sad, so sacred, could be thelittle tumblers, who, but half-an-hour before, were disporting on thecoarse boards at his side. 

The father always described, before the curtain was withdrawn, with asort of savage terseness, the subject of the impending scene. The groupsdid not continue long; a pause of half a minute, and the circular stagerevolved, and the curtain again closed. This rapidity of representationwas necessary, lest delay should compromise the indispensableimmovable-ness of the performers. 

'Now, ' said Baroni, turning his head to the audience, and slightlytouching his violin, 'Christ falls under the weight of the cross. 'And immediately the curtain parted, and Sidonia beheld a group in thehighest style of art, and which though deprived of all the magic ofcolour, almost expressed the passion of Correggio. 

'It is Alfred, ' said Baroni, as Sidonia evinced his admiration. 'Hechiefly arranges all this, under my instructions. In drapery his talentis remarkable. '

At length, after a series of representations, which were all worthy ofbeing exhibited in the pavilions of princes, Baroni announced the lastscene. 

'What you are going to see now is the Descent from the Cross; it isafter Rubens, one of the greatest masters that ever lived, if youever heard of such a person, ' he added, in a grumbling voice, and thenturning to Sidonia, he said, 'This crucifixion is the only thing whichthese savages seem at all to understand; but I should like you, sir, as you are an artist, to see the children in some Greek or Roman story:Pygmalion, or the Death of Agrippina. I think you would be pleased. '

'I cannot be more pleased than I am now, ' said Sidonia. 'I am alsoastonished. '

But here Baroni was obliged to scrape his fiddle, for the curtain moved. 

'It is a triumph of art, ' said Sidonia, as he beheld the immortal groupof Rubens reproduced with a precision and an exquisite feeling which nolanguage can sufficiently convey, or too much extol. 

The performances were over, the little artists were summoned to thefront scene to be applauded, the scanty audience were dispersing:Sidonia lingered. 

'You are living in this house, I suppose?' he said to Baroni. 

Baroni shook his head. 'I can afford no roof except my own. '

'And where is that?'

'On four wheels, on the green here. We are vagabonds, and, I suppose, must always be so; but, being one family, we can bear it. I wish thechildren to have a good supper to-night, in honour of your kindness. Ihave a good deal to do. I must put these things in order, ' as he spokehe was working; 'there is the grandmother who lives with us; all thistime she is alone, guarded, however, by the dog. I should like them tohave meat to-night, if I can get it. Their mother cooks the supper. Then I have got to hear them say their prayers. All this takes time, particularly as we have to rise early, and do many things before we makeour first course through the city. '

'I will come and see you to-morrow, ' said Sidonia, 'after your firstprogress. '

'An hour after noon, if you please, ' said Baroni. 'It is pleasant forme to become acquainted with a fellow artist, and one so liberal asyourself. '

'Your name is Baroni, ' said Sidonia, looking at him earnestly. 

'My name is Baroni. '

'An Italian name. '

'Yes, I come from Cento. '

'Well, we shall meet to-morrow. Good night, Baroni. I am going, to sendyou some wine for your supper, and take care the grandmamma drinks myhealth. '

II. 

It was a sunny morn: upon the green contiguous to the Auberge of St. Nicholas was a house upon wheels, a sort of monster omnibus, its hugeshafts idle on the ground, while three fat Flemish horses cropped thesurrounding pasture. From the door of the house were some temporarysteps, like an accommodation ladder, on which sat Baroni, dressedsomething like a Neapolitan fisherman, and mending his clarionet; theman in the blouse was eating his dinner, seated between the shafts, towhich also was fastened the little dog, often the only garrison, exceptthe grandmother, of this strange establishment. 

The little dog began barking vociferously, and Baroni, looking up, instantly bade him be quiet. It was Sidonia whose appearance in thedistance had roused the precautionary voice. 

'Well, ' said Sidonia, 'I heard your trumpets this morning. '

'The grandmother sleeps, ' said Baroni, taking off his cap, and slightlyrising. 'The rest also are lying down after their dinner. Children willnever repose unless there are rules, and this with them is invariable. '

'But your children surely cannot be averse to repose, for they requireit. '

'Their blood is young, ' continued Baroni, still mending his clarionet;'they are naturally gay, except my eldest son. He is restless, but he isnot gay. '

'He likes his art?'

'Not too much; what he wants is to travel, and, after all, though we arealways moving, the circle is limited. '

'Yes; you have many to move. And can this ark contain them all?' saidSidonia, seating himself on some timber that was at hand. 

'With convenience even, ' replied Baroni; 'but everything can be effectedby order and discipline. I rule and regulate my house like a ship. In avessel, there is not as much accommodation for the size as in a houseof this kind; yet nowhere is there more decency and cleanliness than onboard ship. '

'You have an obedient crew, ' said Sidonia, 'and that is much. '

'Yes; when they wake my children say their prayers, and then they cometo embrace me and their mother. This they have never omitted duringtheir lives. I have taught them from their birth to obey God and tohonour their parents. These two principles have made them a religiousand moral family. They have kept us united, and sustained us undersevere trials. '

'Yet such talents as you all possess, ' said Sidonia, 'should haveexempted you from any very hard struggle, especially when united, asapparently in your case, with well-ordered conduct. '

'It would seem that they should, ' said Baroni, 'but less talents than wepossess would, probably, obtain as high a reward. The audiences that weaddress have little feeling for art, and all these performances, whichyou so much applauded last night, would not, perhaps, secure even thefeeble patronage we experience, if they were not preceded by some featsof agility or strength. '

'You have never appealed to a higher class of audience?'

'No; my father was a posture-master, as his father was before him. Thesearts are traditionary in our family, and I care not to say for whatlength of time and from what distant countries we believe them to havebeen received by us. My father died by a fall from a tight rope in themidst of a grand illumination at Florence, and left me a youth. I countnow only sixty-and-thirty summers. I married, as soon as I could, a dancer at Milan. We had no capital, but our united talents foundsuccess. We loved our children; it was necessary to act with decision, or we should have been separated and trampled into the mud. Then Idevised this house and wandering life, and we exist in general as yousee us. In the winter, if our funds permit it, we reside in some city, where we educate our children in the arts which they pursue. The mothercan still dance, sings prettily, and has some knowledge of music. Formyself, I can play in some fashion upon every instrument, and havealmost taught them as much; I can paint, too, a scene, compose agroup, and with the aid of my portfolio of prints, have picked up moreknowledge of the costume, of different centuries than you would imagine. If you see Josephine to-night in the Maid of Orleans you would perhapsbe surprised. A great judge, like yourself a real artist, once told meat Bruxelles, that the grand opera could not produce its equal. '

'I can credit it, ' said Sidonia, 'for I perceive in Josephine, as wellas indeed in all your children, a rare ability!'

'I will be frank, ' said Baroni, looking at Sidonia very earnestly, andlaying down his clarionet. 'I conclude from what you said last night, and the interest that you take in the children, that you are somethingin our way, though on a great scale. I apprehend you are looking out fornovelties for the next season, and sometimes in the provinces things areto be found. If you will take us to London or Paris, I will consent toreceive no remuneration if the venture fail; all I shall then requirewill be a decent maintenance, which you can calculate beforehand: if thespeculation answer, I will not demand more than a third of the profits, leaving it to your own liberality to make me any regalo in addition, that you think proper. '

'A very fair proposal, ' said Sidonia. 

'Is it a bargain?'

'I must think over it, ' said Sidonia. 

'Well; God prosper your thoughts, for, from what I see of you, you are aman I should be proud to work with. '

'Well, we may yet be comrades. '

The children appeared at the door of the house, and, not to disturbtheir father, vaulted down. They saluted Sidonia with much respect, andthen withdrew to some distance. The mother appeared at the door, and, leaning down, whispered something to Baroni, who, after a littlehesitation, said to Sidonia, 'The grandmother is awake; she has a wishto thank you for your kindness to the children. It will not troubleyou; merely a word; but women have their fancies, and we like always togratify her, because she is much alone and never complains. '

'By all means, ' said Sidonia. 

Whereupon they ushered forward a venerable woman with a true Italianface; hair white as snow, and eyes still glittering with fire, withfeatures like a Roman bust, and an olive complexion. Sidonia addressedher in Italian, which greatly pleased her. She was profuse, even solemn, in her thanks to him; she added, she was sure, from all that she hadheard of him, if he took the children with him, he would be kind tothem. 

'She has overheard something I said to my wife, ' said Baroni, a littleembarrassed. 

'I am sure I should be kind to them, ' said Sidonia, 'for many reasons, and particularly for one;' and he whispered something in Baroni's ear. 

Baroni started from his seat with a glowing cheek, but Sidonia, lookingat his watch and promising to attend their evening performance, badethem adieu. 

III. 

The performances were more meagrely attended this evening than even onthe preceding one, but had they been conducted in the royal theatre ofa capital, they could not have been more elaborate, nor the troupe haveexerted themselves with greater order and effect. It mattered not a jotto them whether their benches were thronged or vacant; the only audiencefor whom the Baroni family cared was the foreign manager, young, generous, and speculative, whom they had evidently without intentionalready pleased, and whose good opinion they resolved to-night entirelyto secure. And in this they perfectly succeeded. Josephine was a tragicmuse; all of them, even to little Carlotta, performed as if theirdestiny depended on the die. Baroni would not permit the children'sbox to be carried round to-night, as he thought it an unfair tax on thegenerous stranger, whom he did not the less please by this well-bredabstinence. As for the mediaeval and historic groups, Sidonia couldrecall nothing equal to them; and what surprised him most was the effectproduced by such miserable materials. It seemed that the whole waseffected with some stiffened linen and paper; but the divine touch ofart turned everything to gold. One statue of Henri IV. With his flowingplume, and his rich romantic dress, was quite striking. It was the veryplume that had won at Ivry, and yet was nothing more than a sheet ofpaper cut and twisted by the plastic finger of little Alfred. 

There was to be no performance on the morrow; the niggard patronage ofthe town had been exhausted. Indeed, had it not been for Sidonia, thelittle domestic troupe would, ere this, have quitted the sullen town, where they had laboured so finely, and achieved such an ungraciousreturn. On the morrow Baroni was to ride one of the fat horses over toBerg, a neighbouring town of some importance, where there was even alittle theatre to be engaged, and if he obtained the permission of themayor, and could make fair terms, he proposed to give there a seriesof representations. The mother was to stay at home and take care of thegrandmother; but the children, all the children, were to have a holiday, and to dine with Sidonia at his hotel. 

It would have been quite impossible for the most respectable burgher, even of the grand place of a Flemish city, to have sent his children ona visit in trim more neat, proper, and decorous, than that in whichthe Baroni family figured on the morrow, when they went to pay theirrespects to their patron. The girls were in clean white frocks withlittle black silk jackets, their hair beautifully tied and plaited, andtheir heads uncovered, according to the fashion of the country: not anornament or symptom of tawdry taste was visible; not even a necklace, although they necessarily passed their lives in fanciful or grotesqueattire; the boys, in foraging caps all of the same fashion, were dressedin blouses of holland, with bands and buckles, their broad shirt collarsthrown over their shoulders. It is astonishing, as Baroni said, whatorder and discipline will do; but how that wonderful house upon wheelscontrived to contain all these articles of dress, from the uniform ofthe marshal of France to the diminutive blouse of little Michel, and howtheir wearers always managed to issue from it as if they came forthfrom the most commodious and amply-furnished mansion, was truly yetpleasingly perplexing. Sidonia took them all in a large landau to see afamous château a few miles off, full of pictures and rich old furniture, and built in famous gardens. This excursion would have been delightfulto them, if only from its novelty, but, as a substitute for their dailyprogress through the town, it offered an additional gratification. 

The behaviour of these children greatly interested and pleased Sidonia. Their conduct to each other was invariably tender and affectionate:their carriage to him, though full of respect, never constrained, andtouched by an engaging simplicity. Above all, in whatever they did orsaid, there was grace. They did nothing awkwardly; their voices weremusical; they were merry without noise, and their hearts sparkled intheir eyes. 

'I begin to suspect that these youthful vagabonds, struggling for life, have received a perfect education, ' thought the ever-musing Sidonia, ashe leaned back in the landau, and watched the group that he had madeso happy. 'A sublime religious principle sustains their souls; a tendermorality regulates their lives; and with the heart and the spirit thusdeveloped, they are brought up in the pursuit and production of thebeautiful. It is the complete culture of philosophic dreams!'

IV. 

The children had never sat down before to a regular dinner, and theytold Sidonia 50. Their confession added a zest to the repast. Hegave them occasional instructions, and they listened as if they werereceiving directions for a new performance. They were so quick andso tractable, that their progress was rapid; and at the second courseJosephine was instructing Michel, and Alfred guiding the rather helplessbut always self-composed Carlotta. After dinner, while Sidonia helpedthem to sugar-plums, he without effort extracted from each their masterwish. Josephine desired to be an actress, while Adele confessed that, though she sighed for the boards, her secret aspirations were for thegrand opera. Carlotta thought the world was made to dance. 

'For my part, ' said Francis, the eldest son, 'I have no wish to be idle;but there are two things which I have always desired: first, that Ishould travel; and, secondly, that nobody should ever know me. '

'And what would Alfred wish to be?' said Sidonia. 

'Indeed, sir, if it did not take me from my brothers and sisters, Ishould certainly wish to be a painter. '

'Michel has not yet found out what he wishes, ' said Sidonia. 

'I wish to play upon the horn, ' said Michel, with great determination. 

When Sidonia embraced them before their departure, he gave each of thegirls a French shawl; to Francis he gave a pair of English pistols, to guard him when he travelled; Alfred received a portfolio full ofdrawings of costume. It only arrived after dinner, for the town was toopoor to supply anything good enough for the occasion, and Sidonia hadsent a special messenger, the day before, for it to Lille. Michel wasthe guardian of a basket laden with good things, which he was to havethe pleasure of dividing among the Baroni family. 'And if your papa comeback to-night, ' said Sidonia to Josephine, 'tell him I should like tohave a word with him. '

V. 

Sidonia had already commenced that habit which, during subsequent years, he has so constantly and successfully pursued, namely, of enlistingin his service all the rare talent which he found lying common andunappropriated in the great wilderness of the world, no matter if theobject to which it would apply might not immediately be in sight. Theconjuncture would arrive when it would be wanted. Thus he generallyhad ready the right person for the occasion; and, whatever might be thetransaction, the human instrument was rarely wanting. Independent of thepower and advantage which this system gave him, his abstract interest inintellect made the pursuit delightful to him. He liked to give abilityof all kinds its scope. Nothing was more apt to make him melancholy, than to hear of persons of talents dying without having their chance. A failure is nothing; it may be deserved, or it may be remedied. In thefirst instance, it brings self-knowledge; in the second, it develops anew combination usually triumphant. But incapacity, from not, having achance of being capable, is a bitter lot, which Sidonia was ever readyto alleviate. 

The elder Baroni possessed Herculean strength, activity almost asremarkable, a practised courage, and a controlling mind. He was in theprime of manhood, and spoke several languages. He was a man, accordingto Sidonia's views, of high moral principle, entirely trustworthy. Hewas too valuable an instrument to allow to run to seed as the strollingmanager of a caravan of tumblers; and it is not improbable that Sidoniawould have secured his services, even if he had not become acquaintedwith the Baroni family. But they charmed him. In every member of it herecognised character, and a predisposition which might even be genius. He resolved that every one of them should have a chance. 

When therefore Baroni, wearied and a little disgusted with anunpromising journey, returned from Berg in the evening, and, inconsequence of the message of his children, repaired instantly to thehotel of Sidonia, his astonishment was great when he found the managerconverted into a millionaire, and that too the most celebrated inEurope. But no language can convey his wonder when he learnt the careerthat was proposed to him, and the fortunes that were carved out forhis children. He himself was to repair, with all his family, exceptJosephine and her elder brother, at once to Vienna, where he was to beinstalled into a post of great responsibility and emolument. He was madesuperintendent of the couriers of the house of Sidonia in that capital, and especially of those that conveyed treasure. Though his duties wouldentail frequent absences on him, he was to be master of a constant andcomplete establishment. Alfred was immediately to become a pupil of theAcademy of Painters, and Carlotta of that of dancing; the talents ofMichel were to be watched, and to be reported to Sidonia at fittingperiods. As for Adele, she was consigned to a lady who had once beena celebrated prima donna, with whom she was to pursue her studies, although still residing under the paternal roof. 'Josephine will repairto Paris at once with her brother, ' said Sidonia. 'My family will guardover her. She will enjoy her brother's society until I commence mytravels. He will then accompany me. '

It is nearly twenty years since these incidents occurred, and perhapsthe reader may feel not altogether uninterested in the subsequent fateof the children of Baroni. Mademoiselle Josephine is at this momentthe glory of the French stage; without any question the most admirabletragic actress since Clairon, and inferior not even to her. The spiritof French tragedy has risen from the imperial couch on which it hadlong slumbered since her appearance, at the same time classical andimpassioned, at once charmed and commanded the most refined audiencein Europe. Adele, under the name of Madame Baroni, is the acknowledgedQueen of Song in London, Paris, Berlin, and St. Petersburg; while heryounger sister, Carlotta Baroni, shares the triumphs, and equals therenown, of a Taglioni and a Cerito. At this moment, Madame Baroniperforms to enthusiastic audiences in the first opera of her brotherMichel, who promises to be the rival of Meyerbeer and Mendelssohn; alldelightful intelligence to meet the ear of the soft-hearted Alfred, whois painting the new chambers of the Papal palace, a Cavaliere, decoratedwith many orders, and the restorer of the once famous Roman school. 

'Thus, ' continued Baroni to Tancred, 'we have all succeeded inlife because we fell across a great philosopher, who studied ourpredisposition. As for myself, I told M. De Sidonia that I wished totravel and to be unknown, and so he made of me a secret agent. '

'There is something most interesting, ' said Tancred, 'in this idea ofa single family issuing from obscurity, and disseminating their geniusthrough the world, charming mankind with so many spells. How fortunatefor you all that Sidonia had so much feeling for genius!'

'And some feeling for his race, ' said Baroni. 

'How?' said Tancred, startled. 

'You remember he whispered something in my father's ear?'

'I remember. '

'He spoke it in Hebrew, and he was understood. '

'You do not mean that you, too, are Jews?'

'Pure Sephardim, in nature and in name. '

'But your name surely is Italian?'

'Good Arabic, my lord. Baroni; that is, the son of Aaron; the name ofold clothesmen in London, and of caliphs at Bagdad. '

CHAPTER XLI. 

 _The Mountains of Lebanon_

HOW do you like my forest?' asked Fakredeen of Tancred, as, whiledescending a range of the Lebanon, an extensive valley opened beforethem, covered with oak trees, which clothed also, with their stouttrunks, their wide-spreading branches, and their rich starry foliage, the opposite and undulating hills, one of which was crowned with aconvent. 'It is the only oak forest in Syria. It will serve some day tobuild our fleet. '

At Gaza, which they had reached by easy journeys, for Fakredeen was veryconsiderate of the health of Tancred, whose wound had scarcely healed, and over whom he watched with a delicate solicitude which would havealmost become a woman, the companions met Scheriff Effendi. The magicsignature of Lord Montacute settled the long-vexed question of thefive thousand muskets, and secured also ten thousand piastres for thecommander of the escort to deliver to his chief. The children of Rechab, in convoy of the precious charge, certain cases of which were to bedelivered to the great Sheikh, and the rest to be deposited in indicatedquarters of the Lebanon, here took leave of the Emir and his friend, and pursued their course to the north of Hebron and the Dead Sea, in thedirection of the Hauraan, where they counted, if not on overtakingthe great Sheikh, at least on the additional security which hisneighbourhood would ensure them. Their late companions remained at Gaza, awaiting Tancred's yacht, which Baroni fetched from the neighbouringJaffa. A favourable breeze soon carried them from Gaza to Beiroot, where they landed, and where Fakredeen had the political pleasure ofexhibiting his new and powerful ally, a prince, an English prince, the brother perhaps of a queen, unquestionably the owner of a splendidyacht, to the admiring eye of all his, at the same time, credulous andrapacious creditors. 

The air of the mountains invigorated Tancred. His eyes had rested solong on the ocean and the desert, that the effect produced on the nervesby the forms and colours of a more varied nature were alone reviving. 

There are regions more lofty than the glaciered crests of Lebanon;mountain scenery more sublime, perhaps even more beautiful: its peaksare not lost in the clouds like the mysterious Ararat; its forestsare not as vast and strange as the towering Himalaya; it has not thevolcanic splendour of the glowing Andes; in lake and in cataract itmust yield to the European Alps; but for life, vigorous, varied, andpicturesque, there is no highland territory in the globe that can for amoment compare with the great chain of Syria. 

Man has fled from the rich and servile plains, from the tyranny of theTurk and from Arabian rapine, to clothe the crag with vines, and restunder his fig tree on the mountain top. An ingenious spirit, unweariedindustry, and a bland atmosphere have made a perpetual garden of theSyrian mountains. Their acclivities sparkle with terraces of corn andfruit. Castle and convent crown their nobler heights, and flat-roofedvillages nestle amid groves of mulberry trees. Among these mountainswe find several human races, several forms of government, andseveral schemes of religion, yet everywhere liberty: a proud, feudalaristocracy; a conventual establishment, which in its ramificationsrecalls the middle ages; a free and armed peasantry, whatever theircreed, Emirs on Arabian steeds, bishops worthy of the Apostles, theMaronite monk, the horned head-gear of the Druses. 

Some of those beautiful horses, for which Fakredeen was celebrated, hadawaited the travellers at Beiroot. The journey through the mountain wasto last three days before they reached Canobia. They halted one night ata mountain village, where the young Emir was received with enthusiasticdevotion, and on the next at a small castle belonging to Fakredeen, andwhere resided one of his kinsmen. Two hours before sunset, on the thirdday, they were entering the oak forest to which we referred, and throughwhose glades they journeyed for about half an hour. On arriving at theconvent-crowned height opposite, they beheld an expanse of country; asmall plain amid the mountains; in many parts richly cultivated, studded by several hamlets, and watered by a stream, winding amid richshrubberies of oleander. 

Almost in the middle of this plain, on a height superior to theimmediate elevations which bounded it, rose a mountain of gradualascent, covered with sycamores, and crowned by a superb Saraceniccastle. 

'Canobia!' said Fakredeen to Tancred, 'which I hope you never willquit. '

'It would be difficult, ' rejoined Tancred, animated. 'I have seldom seena sight more striking and more beautiful. '

In the meantime, Freeman and Trueman, who were far in the rear amidFakredeen's attendants, exchanged congratulating glances of blendedsurprise and approbation. 

'This is the first gentleman's seat I have seen since we left England, 'said Freeman. 

'There must have been a fine coming of age here, ' rejoined Trueman. 

'As for that, ' replied Freeman, 'comings of age depend in a manner uponmeat and drink. They ain't in noways to be carried out with coffee andpipes. Without oxen roasted whole, and broached hogsheads, they ain't ina manner legal. '

A horseman, who was ahead of the Emir and Tancred, now began beatingwith a stick on two small tabors, one on each side of his saddle, andthus announced to those who were already on the watch, the approach oftheir lord. It was some time, however, before the road, winding throughthe sycamore trees and gradually ascending, brought them to the outworksof the castle, of which, during their progress, they enjoyed a varietyof views. It was a very extensive pile, in excellent condition, andapparently strongly fortified. A number of men, in showy dresses andwith ornamented arms, were clustered round the embattled gateway, whichintroduced the travellers into a quadrangle of considerable size, and ofwhich the light and airy style pleasingly and suitably contrasted withthe sterner and more massive character of the exterior walls. A fountainrose in the centre of the quadrangle which was surrounded by arcades. Ranged round this fountain, in a circle, were twenty saddled steedsof the highest race, each held by a groom, and each attended by aman-at-arms. All pressed their hands to their hearts as the Emirentered, but with a gravity of countenance which was never for amoment disturbed. Whether their presence were habitual, or only forthe occasion, it was unquestionably impressive. Here the travellersdismounted, and Fakredeen ushered Tancred through a variety of saloons, of which the furniture, though simple, as becomes the East, wasluxurious, and, of its kind, superb; floors of mosaic marbles, brightcarpets, arabesque ceilings, walls of carved cedar, and broad divans ofthe richest stuffs of Damascus. 

'And this divan is for you, ' said Fakredeen, showing Tancred into achamber, which opened upon a flower-garden shaded by lemon trees. 'Iam proud of my mirror, ' he added, with some exultation, as he calledTancred's attention to a large French looking-glass, the only one inLebanon. 'And this, ' added Fakredeen, leading Tancred through a suite ofmarble chambers, 'this is your bath. '

In the centre of one chamber, fed by a perpetual fountain, was a largealabaster basin, the edges of which were strewn with flowers justculled. The chamber was entirely of porcelain; a golden flower on aground of delicate green. 

'I will send your people to you, ' said Fakredeen; 'but, in the meantime, there are attendants here who are, perhaps, more used to the duty;' and, so saying, he clapped his hands, and several servants appeared, bearingbaskets of curious linen, whiter than the snow of Lebanon, and a varietyof robes. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

 _Strange Ceremonies. _

IT HAS been long decreed that no poet may introduce the Phoenix. Scyllaand Charybdis are both successfully avoided even by provincial rhetoric. The performance of Hamlet with the part of Hamlet omitted, and Mahomet'sunhappy coffin, these are illustrations that have long been theprerogative of dolts and dullards. It is not for a moment to betolerated that an oasis should be met with anywhere except in thedesert. 

We sadly lack a new stock of public images. The current similes, ifnot absolutely counterfeit, are quite worn out. They have no intrinsicvalue, and serve only as counters to represent the absence of ideas. The critics should really call them in. In the good old days, when thesuperscription was fresh, and the mint mark bright upon the metal, weshould have compared the friendship of two young men to that of Damonand Pythias. These were individuals then still well known in politesociety. If their examples have ceased to influence, it cannotbe pretended that the extinction of their authority has been theconsequence of competition. Our enlightened age has not produced themany rivals. 

Of all the differences between the ancients and ourselves, none morestriking than our respective ideas of friendship. Grecian friendshipwas indeed so ethereal, that it is difficult to define its essentialqualities. They must be sought rather in the pages of Plato, or themoral essays of Plutarch perhaps, and in some other books not quiteas well known, but not less interesting and curious. As for modernfriendship, it will be found in clubs. It is violent at a housedinner, fervent in a cigar shop, full of devotion at a cricket or apigeon-match, or in the gathering of a steeple-chase. The nineteenthcentury is not entirely sceptical on the head of friendship, but fears'tis rare. A man may have friends, but then, are they sincere ones?Do not they abuse you behind your back, and blackball you at societieswhere they have had the honour to propose you? It might philosophicallybe suggested that it is more agreeable to be abused behind one's backthan to one's face; and, as for the second catastrophe, it should not beforgotten that if the sincere friend may occasionally put a successfulveto on your election, he is always ready to propose you again. Generally speaking, among sensible persons it would seem that a rich mandeems that friend a sincere one who does not want to borrow his money;while, among the less favoured with fortune's gifts, the sincere friendis generally esteemed to be the individual who is ready to lend it. 

As we must not compare Tancred and Fakredeen to Damon and Pythias, and as we cannot easily find in Pall Mall or Park Lane a parallel moremodish, we must be content to say, that youth, sympathy, and occasioncombined to create between them that intimacy which each was prompt torecognise as one of the principal sources of his happiness, and whichthe young Emir, at any rate, was persuaded must be as lasting as it wasfervent and profound. 

Fakredeen was seen to great advantage among his mountains. He was anobject of universal regard, and, anxious to maintain the repute of whichhe was proud, and which was to be the basis of his future power, it seemed that he was always in a gracious and engaging position. Brilliant, sumptuous, and hospitable, always doing something kind, orsaying something that pleased, the Emirs and Sheikhs, both Maronite andDruse, were proud of the princely scion of their greatest house, andhastened to repair to Ca-nobia, where they were welcome to ride any ofhis two hundred steeds, feast on his flocks, quaff his golden wine ofLebanon, or smoke the delicate tobaccos of his celebrated slopes. 

As for Tancred, his life was novel, interesting, and exciting. Themountain breezes soon restored his habitual health; his wound entirelyhealed; each day brought new scenes, new objects, new characters; andthere was ever at his side a captivating companion, who lent additionalinterest to all he saw and heard by perpetually dwelling on the greatdrama which they were preparing, and in which all these personages andcircumstances were to perform their part and advance their purpose. 

At this moment Fakredeen proposed to himself two objects: the first was, to bring together the principal chiefs of the mountain, both Maroniteand Druse, and virtually to carry into effect at Ca-nobia thatreconciliation between the two races which had been formally effected atBeiroot, in the preceding month of June, by the diplomatic interferenceof the Great Powers, and through the signature of certain articles ofpeace to which we have alluded. His second object was to increase hisalready considerable influence with these personages, by exhibitingto them, as his guest and familiar friend, an English prince, whosepresence could only be accounted for by duties too grave for ordinaryenvoys, and who was understood to represent, in their fullest sense, thewealth and authority of the richest and most potent of nations. 

The credulous air of Syria was favourable to the great mystification inwhich Lord Montacute was an unconscious agent. It was as fully believedin the mountain, by all the Habeishes and the Eldadahs, the Kazins andthe Elvasuds, the Elheires, and the Hai-dars, great Maronite families, as well as by the Druse Djinblats and their rivals, the House ofYezbeck, or the House of Talhook, or the House of Abuneked, that thebrother of the Queen of England was a guest at Canobia as it was in thestony wilderness of Petrsea. Ahmet Raslan the Druse and Butros Kerauneythe Maronite, who agreed upon no other point, were resolved on this. Andwas it wonderful, for Butros had already received privately two hundredmuskets since the arrival of Tancred, and Raslan had been promised inconfidence a slice of the impending English loan by Fakredeen?

The extraordinary attention, almost homage, which the Emir paid hisguest entirely authorised these convictions, although they could justifyno suspicion on the part of Tancred. The natural simplicity of hismanners, indeed, and his constitutional reserve, recoiled from the stateand ceremony with which he found himself frequently surrounded and toooften treated; but Fakredeen peremptorily stopped his remonstrances byassuring him that it was the custom of the country, and that every onepresent would be offended if a guest of distinction were not entertainedwith this extreme respect. It is impossible to argue against the customsof a country with which you are not acquainted, but coming home oneday from a hawking party, a large assembly of the most influentialchieftains, Fakredeen himself bounding on a Kochlani steed, and arrayedin a dress that would have become Solyman the Magnificent, Tancred aboutto dismount, the Lord of Canobia pushed forward, and, springing from hissaddle, insisted on holding the stirrup of Lord Montacute. 

'I cannot permit this, ' said Tancred, reddening, and keeping his seat. 

'If you do not, there is not a man here who will not take it as apersonal insult, ' said the Emir, speaking rapidly between his teeth, yet affecting to smile. 'It has been the custom of the mountain for morethan seven hundred years. '

'Very strange, ' thought Tancred, as he complied and dismounted. 

All Syria, from Gaza to the Euphrates, is feudal. The system, generallyprevalent, flourishes in the mountain region even with intenseness. Anattempt to destroy feudalism occasioned the revolt against the Egyptiansin 1840, and drove Mehemet Ali from the country which had cost him somuch blood and treasure. Every disorder that has subsequently occurredin Syria since the Turkish restoration may be traced to some officiousinterposition or hostile encroachment in this respect. The lands ofLebanon are divided into fifteen Mookatas, or feudal provinces, and therights of the mookatadgis, or landlords, in these provinces, are powerof punishment not extending to death, service in war, and labour inpeace, and the collection of the imperial revenue from the population, who are in fact their vassals, on which they receive a percentage fromthe Porte. The administration of police, of the revenue, and indeedthe whole internal government of Lebanon, are in the hands of themookatadgis, or rather of the most powerful individuals of this class, who bear the titles of Emirs and Sheikhs, some of whom are proprietorsto a very great extent, and many of whom, in point of race and antiquityof established family, are superior to the aristocracy of Europe. 

There is no doubt that the founders of this privileged and territorialclass, whatever may be the present creeds of its members, Moslemin, Maronite, or Druse, were the old Arabian conquerors of Syria. The Turks, conquerors in their turn, have succeeded in some degree in the plain tothe estates and immunities of the followers of the first caliphs; butthe Ottomans never substantially prevailed in the Highlands, and theirauthority has been recognised mainly by management, and as a convenientcompromise amid the rivalries of so many local ambitions. 

Always conspicuous among the great families of the Lebanon, duringthe last century and a half preeminent, has been the House of Shehaab, possessing entirely one of the provinces, and widely disseminated andpowerfully endowed in several of the others. Since the commencement ofthe eighteenth century, the virtual sovereignty of the country has beenexercised by a prince of this family, under the title of Chief Emir. Thechiefs of all the different races have kissed the hand of a Shehaab; hehad the power of life and death, could proclaim war and confer honours. Of all this family, none were so supreme as the Emir Bescheer, whogoverned Lebanon during the Egyptian invasion, and to whose subdolouscareer and its consequences we have already referred. When the Turkstriumphed in 1840, the Emir Bescheer was deposed, and with his sons sentprisoner to Constantinople. The Porte, warned at that time by the tooeasy invasion of Syria and the imminent peril which it had escaped, wished itself to assume the government of Lebanon, and to garrison thepasses with its troops; but the Christian Powers would not consent tothis proposition, and therefore Kassim Shehaab was called to the ChiefEmirate. Acted upon by the patriarch of the Maronites, Kassim, who was aChristian Shehaab, countenanced the attempts of his holiness to destroythe feudal privileges of the Druse mookatadgis, while those of theMaronites were to be retained. This produced the civil war of 1841in Lebanon, which so perplexed and scandalised England, and whichwas triumphantly appealed to by France as indubitable evidence of theweakness and unpopularity of the Turks, and the fruitlessness of ourprevious interference. The Turks had as little to do with it as M. Guizot or Lord Palmerston; but so limited is our knowledge upon thesesubjects that the cry was successful, and many who had warmly supportedthe English minister during the previous year, and probably in equalignorance of the real merits of the question, began now to shake theirheads and fear that we had perhaps been too precipitate. 

The Porte adroitly took advantage of the general anarchy to enforcethe expediency of its original proposition, to which the Great Powers, however, would not assent. Kassim was deposed, after a reign of a fewmonths, amid burning villages and their slaughtered inhabitants; and, asthe Porte was resolved not to try another Shehaab, and the Great Powerswere resolved not to trust the Porte, diplomacy was obliged again tointerfere, and undertake to provide Lebanon with a government. 

It was the interest of two parties, whose cooperation was highlyessential to the settlement of this question, to prevent the desiredadjustment, and these were the Turkish government and the family ofShehaab and their numerous adherents. Anarchy was an argument in themouth of each, that the Lebanon must be governed by the Porte, or thatthere never could be tranquillity without a Shehaab prince. The Porte ingeneral contented itself with being passive and watching the fray, whilethe agents of the Great Powers planned and promulgated their scheme ofpolity. The Shehaabs were more active, and their efforts were greatlyassisted by the European project which was announced. 

The principal feature of this administrative design was the institutionof two governors of Lebanon, called Caimacams, one of whom was to be aMaronite and govern the Maronites, and the other a Druse and govern hisfellow-countrymen. Superficially, this seemed fair enough, butreduced into practice the machinery would not work. For instance, thepopulations in many places were blended. Was a Druse Caimacam to governthe Christians in his district? Was the government of the two Caimacamsto be sectarian or geographical? Should the Christian Caimacam governall the Christians, and the Druse Caimacam govern all the Druses ofthe Lebanon? Or should the Christian Caimacam govern the ChristianMook-atas, as well as such Druses as lived mixed with the Christiansin the Christian Mookatas, and the Druse Caimacam in the Druse countryexercise the same rights?

Hence arose the terms of mixed Druses and mixed Christians; mixed Drusesmeaning Druses living in the Christian country, and mixed Christiansthose living in the Druse country. Such was the origin of the mixedpopulation question, which entirely upset the project of Downing Street;happy spot, where they draw up constitutions for Syria and treaties forChina with the same self-complacency and the same success!

Downing Street (1842) decided upon the sectarian government of theLebanon. It was simple, and probably satisfactory, to Exeter Hall;but Downing Street was quite unaware, or had quite forgotten, that thefeudal system prevailed throughout Lebanon. The Christians in the Drusedistricts were vassals of Druse lords. The direct rule of a ChristianCaimacam was an infringement on all the feudal rights of the Djinblatsand Yezbecks, of the Talhooks and the Abdel-Maleks. It would be equallyfatal to the feudal rights of the Christian chiefs, the Kazins andthe El-dadahs, the Elheires and the El Dahers, as regarded their Drusetenantry, unless the impossible plan of the patriarch of the Maronites, which had already produced a civil war, had been adopted. Diplomacy, therefore, seemed on the point of at length succeeding in uniting thewhole population of Lebanon in one harmonious action, but unfortunatelyagainst its own project. 

The Shehaab party availed themselves of these circumstances withgreat dexterity and vigour. The party was powerful. The whole of theMaronites, a population of more than 150, 000, were enrolled in theirranks. The Emir Bescheer was of their faith; so was the unfortunateKassim. True, there were several Shehaab princes who were Moslemin, butthey might become Christians, and they were not Druses, at least onlytwo or three of them. The Maronite clergy exercised an unquestionedinfluence over their flocks. It was powerfully organised: a patriarch, numerous monasteries, nine prelates, and an active country priesthood. 

Previously to the civil war of 1841, the feeling of the Druses had beenuniversally in favour of the Shehaabs. The peril in which feudalismwas placed revived their ancient sentiments. A Shehaab committeewas appointed, with perpetual sittings at Deir el Kamar, the mostconsiderable place in the Lebanon; and, although it was chiefly composedof Christians, there were several Druses at least in correspondence withit. But the most remarkable institution which occurred about this time(1844) was that of 'Young Syria. ' It flourishes: in every town andvillage of Lebanon there is a band of youth who acknowledge the title, and who profess nationality as their object, though, behind that plea, the restoration of the House of Shehaab generally peeps out. 

Downing Street, frightened, gave up sectarian diplomacy, and announcedthe adoption of the geographical principle of government. The Druses, now that their feudal privileges were secured, cooled in their ardourfor nationality. The Shehaabs, on the other hand, finding that theDruses were not to be depended on, changed their note. 'Is it to betolerated for a moment, that a Christian should be governed by a Druse?Were it a Moslem, one might bear it; these things will happen; but aDruse, who adores a golden calf, worshippers of Eblis! One might as wellbe governed by a Jew. '

The Maronite patriarch sent 200, 000 piastres to his children to buyarms; the superior of the convent of Maashmooshi forwarded littleless, saying it was much better to spend their treasure in helping theChristians than, in keeping it to be plundered by the Druses. BishopTubia gave his bond for a round sum, but afterwards recalled it; BishopJoseph Djezini came into Sidon with his pockets full, and told thepeople that a prince of the House of Shehaab would soon be at theirhead, but explained on a subsequent occasion that he went thither merelyto distribute charity. 

In this state of affairs, in May, 1845, the civil war broke out. TheChristians attacked the Druses in several districts on the same day. Theattack was unprovoked, and eventually unsuccessful. Twenty villageswere seen burning at the same time from Beiroot. The Druses repulsedthe Christians and punished them sharply; the Turkish troops, at theinstigation of the European authorities, marched into the mountain andvigorously interfered. The Maronites did not show as much courage in thefield as in the standing committee at Deir el Kamar, but several of theShehaab princes who headed them, especially the Emir Kais, maintainedthe reputation of their house and displayed a brilliant courage. TheEmir Fakre-deen was at Canobia at the time of the outbreak, which, as itoften happens, though not unpremeditated, was unexpected. He marched tothe scene of action at the head of his troops, and, when he foundthat Kais had been outflanked and repulsed, that the Maronites weredisheartened in proportion to their previous vanity and insolence, andthat the Turkish forces had interfered, he assumed the character ofmediator. Taking advantage of the circumstances and the alarm of allparties at the conjuncture and its yet unascertained consequences, heobtained for the Maronites a long-promised indemnity from the Porte forthe ravages of the Druses in the civil war of 1841, which the Druseshad been unable to pay, on condition that they should accept thegeographical scheme of government; and, having signed, with other Emirsand Sheikhs, the ten articles of peace, he departed, as we have seen, onthat visit to Jerusalem which exercised such control over the careerof Lord Monta-cute, and led to such strange results and such singularadventures. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

 _Festivities in Canobia_

GALLOPED up the winding steep of Canobia the Sheikh Said Djinblat, one of the most popular chieftains of the Druses; amiable and brave, trustworthy and soft-mannered. Four of his cousins rode after him: hecame from his castle of Mooktara, which was not distant. He was in theprime of manhood, tall and lithe; enveloped in a burnous which shroudedhis dark eye, his white turban, and his gold-embroidered vests; his longlance was couched in its rest, as he galloped up the winding steep ofCanobia. 

Came slowly, on steeds dark as night, up the winding steep of Canobia, with a company of twenty men on foot armed with muskets and handjars, the two ferocious brothers Abuneked, Nasif and Hamood. Pale is the cheekof the daughters of Maron at the fell name of Abuneked. The Abunekedswere the Druse lords of the town of Deir el Kamar, where the majority ofthe inhabitants were Christian. When the patriarch tried to deprive theDruses of their feudal rights, the Abunekeds attacked and sacked theirown town of Deir el Kamar. The civil war being terminated, and it beingagreed, in the settlement of the indemnities from the Druses to theMaronites, that all plunder still in possession of the plunderers shouldbe restored, Nasif Abuneked said, 'I have five hundred silver horns, andeach of them I took from the head of a Christian woman. Come and fetchthem. '

But all this is forgotten now; and least of all should it be rememberedby the meek-looking individual who is at this moment about to ascendthe winding steep of Canobia. Riding on a mule, clad in a coarse brownwoollen dress, in Italy or Spain we should esteem him a simple Capuchin, but in truth he is a prelate, and a prelate of great power; BishopNicodemus, to wit, prime councillor of the patriarch, and chief prompterof those measures that occasioned the civil war of 1841. A singlesacristan walks behind him, his only retinue, and befitting his limitedresources; but the Maronite prelate is recompensed by universal respect;his vanity is perpetually gratified, and, when he appears, Sheikh andpeasant are alike proud to kiss the hand which his reverence is everprompt to extend. 

Placed on a more eminent stage, and called upon to control largercircumstances, Bishop Nicodemus might have rivalled the Bishop of Autun;so fertile was he in resource, and so intuitive was his knowledge ofmen. As it was, he wasted his genius in mountain squabbles, and inregulating the discipline of his little church; suspending priests, interdicting monks, and inflicting public penance on the laity. Herather resembled De Retz than Talleyrand, for he was naturally turbulentand intriguing. He could under no circumstances let well alone. He wasa thorough Syrian, at once subtle and imaginative. Attached to the Houseof Shehaab by policy, he was devoted to Fakredeen as much by sympathyas interest, and had contrived the secret mission of Archbishop Muradto Europe, which had so much perplexed M. Guizot, Lord Cowley, and LordAberdeen; and which finally, by the intervention of the same BishopNicodemus, Fakredeen had disowned. 

Came caracoling up the winding steep of Canobia a troop of horsemen, showily attired, and riding steeds that danced in the sunny air. Thesewere the princes Kais and Abdullah Shehaab, and Francis El Kazin, whomthe Levantines called Caseno, and the principal members of the YoungSyria party; some of them beardless Sheikhs, but all choicely mounted, and each holding on his wrist a falcon; for this was the first day ofthe year that they might fly. But those who cared not to seek a quarryin the partridge or the gazelle, might find the wild boar or track thepanther in the spacious woods of Canobia. 

And the Druse chief of the House of Djezbek, who for five hundred yearshad never yielded precedence to the House of Djinblat, and Sheikh FahourKangé, who since the civil war had never smoked a pipe with a Maronite, but who now gave the salaam of peace to the crowds of Habeishs andDahdahes who passed by; and Butros Keramy, the nephew of the patriarch, himself a great Sheikh, who inhaled his nargileh as he rode, and wholooked to the skies and puffed forth his smoke whenever he met a sonof Eblis; and the House of Talhook, and the House of Abdel-Malek anda swarm of Elvasuds, and Elheires, and El Dahers, Emirs and Sheikhs ontheir bounding steeds, and musketeers on foot, with their light jacketsand bare legs and wooden sandals, and black slaves, carrying vases andtubes; everywhere a brilliant and animated multitude, and all mountingthe winding steep of Canobia. 

The great court of the castle was crowded with men and horses, and fiftymouths at once were drinking at the central basin; the arcades were fullof Sheikhs, smoking and squatted on their carpets, which in general theyhad spread in this locality in preference to the more formal saloons, whose splendid divans rather embarrassed them; though even thesechambers were well attended, the guests principally seated on the marblefloors covered with their small bright carpets. The domain immediatelyaround the castle was also crowded with human beings. The moment anyonearrived, his steed was stabled or picketed; his attendants spread hiscarpet, sought food for him, which was promptly furnished, with coffeeand sherbets, and occasionally wine; and when he had sufficientlyrefreshed himself, he lighted his nargileh. 

Everywhere there was a murmur, but no uproar; a stir, but no tumult. Andwhat was most remarkable amid these spears and sabres, these muskets, handjars, and poniards, was the sweet and perpetually recurring Syriansalutation of 'Peace. '

Fakredeen, moving about in an immense turban, of the most national andunreformed style, and covered with costly shawls and arms flaming withjewels, recognised and welcomed everyone. He accosted Druse and Maronitewith equal cordiality, talked much with Said Djinblat, whom he speciallywished to gain, and lent one of his choicest steeds to the Djezbek, thathe might not be offended. The Talhook and the Abdel-Malek could not bejealous of the Habeish and the Eldadah. He kissed the hand of BishopNicodemus, but then he sent his own nargileh to the Emir Ahmet Raslan, who was Caimacam of the Druses. 

In this strange and splendid scene, Tancred, dressed in a velvetshooting-jacket built in St. James' Street and a wide-awake which hadbeen purchased at Bellamont market, and leaning on a rifle which was themasterpiece of Purday, was not perhaps the least interesting personage. The Emirs and Sheikhs, notwithstanding the powers of dissimulation forwhich the Orientals are renowned, their habits of self-restraint, andtheir rooted principle never to seem surprised about anything, have aweakness in respect to arms. After eyeing Tancred for a considerabletime with imperturbable countenances, Francis El Kazin sent to Fakredeento know whether the English prince would favour them by shooting aneagle. This broke the ice, and Fakredeen came, and soon the rifle was inthe hands of Francis El Kazin. Sheikh Said Djinblat, who would have diedrather than have noticed the rifle in the hands of Tancred, could notresist examining it when in the possession of a brother Sheikh. KaisShehaab, several Habeishes and Elda-dahs gathered round; exclamationsof wonder and admiration arose; sundry asseverations that God was greatfollowed. 

Freeman and Trueman, who were at hand, were summoned to show theirlord's double-barrelled gun, and his pistols with hair-triggers. This they did, with that stupid composure and dogged conceit whichdistinguish English servants in situations which must elicit from allother persons some ebullition of feeling. 

Exchanging between themselves glances of contempt at the lords ofLebanon, who were ignorant of what everybody knows, they exhibitedthe arms without the slightest interest or anxiety to make the Sheikhscomprehend them; till Tancred, mortified at their brutality, himselfinterfered, and, having already no inconsiderable knowledge of thelanguage of the country, though, from his reserve, Fakredeen littlesuspected the extent of his acquirements, explained felicitously tohis companions the process of the arms; and then taking his rifle, andstepping out upon the terrace, he levelled his piece at a heron whichwas soaring at a distance of upwards of one hundred yards, and broughtthe bird down amid the applause both of Maronite and Druse. 

'He is sent here, I understand, ' said Butros Keramy, 'to ascertainfor the Queen of the English whether the country is in favour of theShehaabs. Could you believe it, but I was told yesterday at Deir elKamar, that the English consul has persuaded the Queen that even thepatriarch was against the Shehaabs?'

'Is it possible?' said Rafael Farah, a Maronite of the Houseof Eldadah. 'It must be the Druses who circulate these enormousfalsehoods. '

'Hush!' said Young Syria, in the shape of Francis El Kazin, 'there is nolonger Maronite or Druse: we are all Syrians, we are brothers. '

'Then a good many of my brothers are sons of Eblis, ' said Butros Keramy. 'I hope he is not my father. '

'Truly, I should like to see the mountain without the Maronite nation, 'said Rafael Farah. 'That would be a year without rain. '

'And mighty things your Maronite nation has done!' rejoined Francis ElKazin. 'If there had been the Syrian nation instead of the Maronitenation, and the Druse nation, and half a dozen other nations besides, instead of being conquered by Egypt in 1832, we should have conqueredEgypt ourselves long ago, and have held it for our farm. We have donemighty things truly with our Maronite nation!'

'To hear an El Kazin speak against the Maronite nation!' exclaimedRafael Farah, with a look of horror; 'a natipn that has two hundredconvents!'

'And a patriarch, ' said Butros Keramy, 'very much respected even by thePope of Rome. '

'And who were disarmed like sheep, ' said Francis. 

'Not because we were beaten, ' said Butros, who was brave enough. 

'We were persuaded to that, ' said Rafael. 

'By our monks, ' said Francis; 'the convents you are so proud of. '

'They were deceived by sons of Eblis, ' said Butros. 'I never gave upmy arms. I have some pieces now, that, although they are not as fineas those of the English prince, could pick a son of Eblis off behind arock, whether he be Egyptian or Druse. '

'Hush!' said Francis El Kazin. 'You love our host, Butros; these are notwords that will please him----'

'Or me, my children, ' said Bishop Nicodemus. 'This is a great day forSyria! to find the chiefs of both nations assembled at the castle of aShehaab. Why am I here but to preach peace and love? And Butros Keramy, my friend, my dearly beloved brother Butros, if you wish to please thepatriarch, your uncle, who loves you so well, you will no longer callDruses sons of Eblis. '

'What are we to call them?' asked Rafael Farah, pettishly. 

'Brothers, ' replied Bishop Nicodemus; 'misguided, but still brothers. This is not a moment for brawls, when the great Queen of the English hassent hither her own brother to witness the concord of the mountain. '

Now arose the sound of tabors, beaten without any attempt at a tune, butwith unremitting monotony, then the baying of many hounds more distant. There was a bustle. Many Sheikhs slowly rose; their followers rushedabout; some looked at their musket locks, some poised their pikes andspears, some unsheathed their handjars, examined their edge, and thenreturned them to their sheath. Those who were in the interior of thecastle came crowding into the great court, which, in turn, poured forthits current of population into the table-land about the castle. Here, held by grooms, or picketed, were many steeds. The mares of the EmirFakredeen were led about by his black slaves. Many of the Sheikhs, mounted, prepared for the pastime that awaited them. 

There was to be a grand chase in the oak forest, through part of whichTancred had already travelled, and which spread over a portion of theplain and the low hilly country that encompassed it. Three parties, respectively led by the Emir Fakredeen, and the Caimacams of the twonations, were to penetrate into this forest at different and distantpoints, so that the sport was spread over a surface of many miles. The heads of the great houses of both nations accompanied the Emir ofCanobia; their relatives and followers, by the exertions of Francis ElKazin and Young Syria, were in general so disturbed that the Maroniteswere under the command of the Emir Raslan, the Druse Caimacam, while theDruses followed the Emir Hai-dar. This great hunting party consisted ofmore than eight hundred persons, about half of whom were mounted, butall were armed; even those who held the dogs in leash were entitledto join in the sport with the same freedom as the proudest Sheikh. Thethree leaders having mounted and bowed gracefully to each other, thecavalcades separated and descended into the plain. The moment theyreached the level country, the horsemen shouted and dispersed, gallopingin all directions, and many of them throwing their spears; but, in ashort time, they had collected again under their respective leaders, andthe three distinct bodies, each a moving and many-coloured mass, mightbe observed from the castled heights, each instant diminishing in sizeand lustre, until they vanished at different points in the distance, andwere lost amid the shades of the forest. 

For many hours throughout this region nothing was heard but the firingof guns, the baying of hounds, the shouting of men; not a human beingwas visible, except some groups of women in the villages, with veilssuspended on immense silver horns, like our female headgear of themiddle ages. By-and-by, figures were seen stealing forth from theforest, men on foot, one or two, then larger parties; some reposed onthe plain, some returned to the villages, some re-ascended the windingsteeps of Canobia. The firing, the shouting, the baying had become moreoccasional. Now a wearied horseman picked his slow way over the plain;then came forth a brighter company, still bounding along. And now theyissued, but slowly and in small parties, from various and oppositequarters of the woodland. A great detachment, in a certain order, werethen observed to cross the plain, and approach the castle. They advancedvery gradually, for most of them were on foot, and joining together, evidently carried burdens; they were preceded and followed by a guardof cavalry. Soon it might be perceived that the produce of the chase wasarriving: twenty-five wild boars carried on litters of green branches;innumerable gazelles borne by their victors; transfixed by four spears, and carried by four men, a hyena. 

Not very long after this caravan had reached the castle, the firing, which had died away, recommenced; the sounds were near at hand; therewas a volley, and almost simultaneously there issued from various partsof the forest the great body of the hunt. They maintained no order ontheir return, but dispersed over the plain, blending together, gallopingtheir steeds, throwing their lances, and occasionally firing a shot. Fakredeen and his immediate friends rode up to the Caimacam of theDruses, and they offered each other mutual congratulations on the sportof the morning. They waited for the Caimacam of the Maronites, who, however, did not long detain them; and, when he appeared, their suitesjoined, and, cantering off at a brisk pace, they soon mounted in companythe winding steeps of Canobia. 

The kitchen of Canobia was on a great scale, though simple as it wasvast. It was formed for the occasion. About fifty square pits, some fourfeet in length, and about half as deep, had been dug on the table-landin the vicinity of the castle. At each corner of each pit was a stake, and the four supported a rustic gridiron of green wood, suspended overeach pit, which was filled with charcoal, and which yielded an equaland continuous heat to the animal reposing on the gridiron: in someinstances a wild boar, in others a sheep--occasionally a couple ofgazelles. The sheep had been skinned, for there had been time for theoperation; but the game had only been split open, cleared out, and laidon its back, with its feet tied to each of the stakes, so as to retainits position. While this roasting was going on, they filled the stomachsof the animals with lemons gashed with their daggers, and bruisedpomegranates, whose fragrant juice, uniting with the bubbling fat, produced an aromatic and rosy gravy. The huntsmen were the cooks, butthe greatest order was preserved; and though the Emirs and the greatSheikhs, heads of houses, retiring again to their divans, occupiedthemselves with their nargilehs, many a mookatadgi mixed with theservants and the slaves, and delighted in preparing this patriarchalbanquet, which indeed befitted a castle and a forest. Within the wallsthey prepared rice, which they piled on brazen and pewter dishes, boiled gallons of coffee, and stewed the liver of the wild boars and thegazelles in the golden wine of Lebanon. 

The way they dined was this. Fakredeen had his carpet spread on themarble floor of his principal saloon, and the two Caimacams, Tancredand Bishop Nicodemus, Said Djinblat, the heads of the Houses of Djezbek, Talhook, and Abdel-Malek, Hamood Abune-ked, and five Maronite chieftainsof equal consideration, the Emirs of the House of Shehaab, the Habeish, and the Eldadah, were invited to sit with him. Round the chamber whichopened to the air, other chieftains were invited to spread theircarpets also; the centre was left clear. The rest of the Sheikhs andrhookatadgis established themselves in small parties, grouped in thesame fashion, in the great court and under the arcades, taking care toleave free egress and regress to the fountain. The retainers feasted, when all was over, in the open air. 

Every man found his knife in his girdle, forks were unknown. Fakredeenprided himself on his French porcelain, which the Djinblats, theTalhooks, and the Abunekeds glanced at very queerly. This Europeanluxury was confined to his own carpet. There was, however, aconsiderable supply of Egyptian earthenware, and dishes of pewter andbrass. The retainers, if they required a plate, found one in the largeflat barley cake with which each was supplied. For the principal gueststhere was no want of coarse goblets of Bohemian glass; deliciouswater abounded in vases of porous pottery, which might be blended, ifnecessary, with the red or white wine of the mountain. The rice, whichhad been dressed with a savoury sauce, was eaten with wooden spoonsby those who were supplied with these instruments; but in general theguests served themselves by handfuls. 

Ten men brought in a framework of oaken branches placed transversely, then covered with twigs, and over these, and concealing everything, abed, fully an inch thick, of mulberry leaves. Upon this fragrant bierreposed a wild boar; and on each side of him reclined a gazelle. Theirbodies had closed the moment their feet had been loosened from thestakes, so that the gravy was contained within them. It required a mostskilful carver not to waste this precious liquid. The chamber was filledwith an invigorating odour as the practised hand of Habas of Deir elKamar proceeded to the great performance. His instruments were a silvercup, a poniard, and a handjar. Making a small aperture in the side ofthe animal, he adroitly introduced the cup, and proportionately baledout the gravy to a group of plates that were extended to him; then, plunging in the long poniard on which he rested, he made an incisionwith the keen edge and broad blade of the handjar, and sent forth sliceafter slice of white fat and ruby flesh. 

The same ceremony was performing in the other parts of the castle. Ten of the pits had been cleared of their burden to appease the firstcravings of the appetite of the hunters. The fires had been replenished, the gridirons again covered, and such a supply kept up as should notonly satisfy the chieftains, but content their followers. Tancred couldnot refrain from contrasting the silent, business-like way in which theShehaabs, the Talhooks, the Djinblats, and the Habeish performed thegreat operation that was going on, with the conversation which isconsidered an indispensable accompaniment of a dinner in Fran-guestan;for we must no longer presume to call Europe by its beautiful orientalname of Christendom. The Shehaabs, the Talhooks, the Djinblats, and theHabeish were sensible men, who were of opinion that if you want to talkyou should not by any means eat, since from such an attempt at a unitedperformance it generally results that you neither converse nor refreshyourself in a satisfactory manner. 

There can be no question that, next to the corroding cares of Europeans, principally occasioned by their love of accumulating money which theynever enjoy, the principal cause of the modern disorder of dyspepsiaprevalent among them is their irrational habit of interfering with theprocess of digestion by torturing attempts at repartee, and rackingtheir brain at a moment when it should be calm, to remind themselves ofsome anecdote so appropriate that they have forgotten it. It has beensupposed that the presence of women at our banquets has occasioned thisfatal and inopportune desire to shine; and an argument has been foundedon this circumstance in favour of their exclusion from an incidentwhich, on the whole, has a tendency to impair that ideal which theyshould always study and cherish. It may be urged that if a woman eatsshe may destroy her spell; and that, if she will not eat, she destroysour dinner. 

Notwithstanding all this, and without giving any opinion on this latterpoint, it should be remembered that at dinners strictly male, wherethere is really no excuse for anything of the kind, where, if you area person of ascertained position, you are invited for that positionand for nothing else, and where, if you are not a person of ascertainedposition, the more agreeable you make yourself the more you will behated, and the less chance you will have of being asked there again, or anywhere else, still this fatal frenzy prevails; and individuals arefound who, from soup to coffee, from egg to apple, will tell anecdotes, indulge in jests, or, in a tone of levity approaching to jesting, pourforth garrulous secret history with which everyone is acquainted, andnever say a single thing which is new that is not coolly invented forthe occasion. 

The princes of the Houses of Shehaab, Kais, and Assaad, and Abdullah, the Habeish and the Eldadah, the great Houses of the Druses, theDjinblat and the Yezbek, the Abuneked, the Talhook, and the Abdel-Malek, were not of this school. Silently, determinedly, unceasing, unsatiated, they proceeded with the great enterprise on which they had embarked. Ifthe two nations were indeed to be united, and form a great wholeunder the sceptre of a Shehaab, let not this banquet pass like thehypocritical hospitality of ordinary life, where men offer what theydesire not to be accepted by those who have no wish to receive. This, onthe contrary, was a real repast, a thing to be remembered. Practicemade the guests accustomed to the porcelain of Paris and the goblets ofPrague. Many was the goodly slice of wild boar, succeeded by therich flesh of the gazelle, of which they disposed. There were alsowood-pigeons, partridges, which the falconers had brought down, andquails from the wilderness. At length they called again for rice, acustom which intimated that their appetite for meat was satisfied, andimmediately Nubian slaves covered them with towels of fine linen fringedwith gold, and, while they held their hands over the basin, poured sweetwaters from the ewer. 

In the meantime, Butros Keramy opened his heart to Rafael Farah. 

'I begin, ' said Butros, quaffing a cup of the Vino d'Oro, 'to believe innationality. '

'It cannot be denied, ' said Rafael Farah, judiciously shaking his head, 'that the two nations were once under the same prince. If the greatpowers would agree to a Shehaab, and we could sometimes meet together inthe present fashion, there is no saying, prejudices might wear off. '

'Shall it ever be said that I am of the same nation as Hamood Abuneked?'said Butros. 

'Ah! it is very dreadful, ' said Rafael; 'a man who has burned convents!'

'And who has five hundred Maronite horns in his castle, ' said Butros. 

'But suppose he restores them?' said Francis El Kazin. 

'That would make a difference, ' said Rafael Farah. 

'There can be no difference while he lives, ' said Butros. 

'I fear 'tis an affair of blood, ' said Rafael Farah. 

'Taking horns was never an affair of blood, ' said Francis El Kazin. 

'What should be an affair of blood, ' said Butros, 'if----'

'But nothing else but taking horns can be proved, ' said Francis ElKazin. 

'There is a good deal in that!' said Rafael Farah. 

After confectionery which had been prepared by nuns, and strong waterswhich had been distilled by the hands of priors, the chieftains praisedGod, and rose, and took their seats on the divan, when immediatelyadvanced a crowd of slaves, each bearing a nargileh, which theypresented to the guests. Then gradually the conversation commenced. Itwas entirely confined to the exploits of the day, which had been rich inthe heroic feats of forest huntsmen. There had been wild boars, too, as brave as their destroyers; some slight wounds, some narrow escapes. Sheikh Said Djinblat inquired of Lord Montacute whether there werehyenas in England, but was immediately answered by the lively andwell-informed Kais Shehaab, who apprised him that there were only lionsand unicorns. Bishop Nicodemus, who watched the current of observations, began telling hunting stories of the time of the Emir Bescheer, whenthat prince resided at his splendid castle of Bteddeen, near Deir elKamar. This was to recall the days when the mountain had only one ruler, and that ruler a Shehaab, and when the Druse lords were proud to beclassed among his most faithful subjects. 

In the meantime smoking had commenced throughout the castle, but thisdid not prevent the smokers from drinking raki as well as the soberjuice of Mocha. Four hundred men, armed with nargileh or chibouque, inhaling and puffing with that ardour and enjoyment which men, aftera hard day's hunting, and a repast of unusual solidity, can aloneexperience! Without the walls, almost as many individuals were feastingin the open air; brandishing their handjars as they cut up the hugemasses of meat before them, plunging their eager hands into the enormousdishes of rice, and slaking their thirst by emptying at a draught a vaseof water, which they poured aloft as the Italians would a flask of wineor oil. 

'And the most curious thing, ' said Freeman to Trueman, as theyestablished themselves under a pine tree, with an ample portion of roastmeat, and armed with their traveling knives and forks, 'and the mostcurious thing is, that they say these people are Christians! Who everheard of Christians wearing turbans?'

'Or eating without knives and forks?' added True-man. 

'It would astonish their weak minds in the steward's room at Bellamont, if they could see all this, John, ' said Mr. Freeman, pensively. 'A manwho travels has very great advantages. '

'And very great hardships too, ' said Trueman. 'I don't care for work, but I do like to have my meals regular. '

'This is not bad picking, though, ' said Mr. Freeman; 'they call itgazelle, which I suppose is the foreign for venison. '

'If you called this venison at Bellamont, ' said Trueman, 'they wouldlook very queer in the steward's room. '

'Bellamont is Bellamont, and this place is this place, John, ' said Mr. Freeman. 'The Hameer is a noble gentleman, every inch of him, and Iam very glad my lord has got a companion of his own kidney. It is muchbetter than monks and hermits, and low people of that sort, who are notby no means fit company for somebody I could mention, and might turn himinto a papist into the bargain. '

'That would be a bad business, ' said Trueman; 'my lady could never abidethat. It would be better that he should turn Turk. '

'I am not sure it wouldn't, ' said Mr. Freeman. 'It would be in a mannermore constitutional. The Sultan of Turkey may send an Ambassador to ourQueen, but the Pope of Rome may not. '

'I should not like to turn Turk, ' said Trueman, very thoughtfully. 

'I know what you are thinking of, John, ' said Mr. Freeman, in a serioustone. 'You are thinking, if anything were to happen to either of us inthis heathen land, where we should get Christian burial. '

'Lord love you, Mr. Freeman, no, I wasn't. I was thinking of a glass ofale. '

'Ah!' sighed Freeman, 'it softens the heart to think of such things awayfrom home, as we are. Do you know, John, there are times when I feelvery queer, there are indeed. I catched myself a singing "Sweet Home"one night, among those savages in the wilderness. One wants consolation, John, sometimes, one does, indeed; and, for my part, I do miss thefamily prayers and the home-brewed. '

As the twilight died away, they lighted immense bonfires, as well tocheer them during their bivouac, as to deter any adventurous panther, stimulated by the savoury odours, or hyena, breathing fraternal revenge, from reconnoitring their encampment. By degrees, however, the noiseof the revellers without subsided, and at length died away. Havingsatisfied their hunger, and smoked their chibouques, often made from thebranch which they had cut since their return from hunting, with the budstill alive upon the fresh green tube, they wrapped themselves in theircloaks and sheepskins, and sunk into a deep and well-earned repose. 

Within, the Sheikhs and mookatadgis gradually, by no meanssimultaneously, followed their example. Some, taking off their turbansand loosening their girdles, ensconced themselves under the arcades, lying on their carpets, and covered with their pelisses and cloaks; somestrolled into the divaned chambers, which were open to all, and morecomfortably stowed themselves upon the well-stuffed cushions; others, overcome with fatigue and their revel, were lying in deep sleep, outstretched in the open court, and picturesque in the blazingmoonlight. 

The hunting party was to last three days, and few intended to leaveCanobia on the morrow; but it must not be supposed that the guestsexperienced any very unusual hardships in what the reader may consider afar from satisfactory mode of passing their night. To say nothing of thewarm and benignant climate, the Easterns have not the custom of retiringor rising with the formality of the Occidental nations. They take theirsleep when they require it, and meet its embrace without preparation. One cause of this difference undoubtedly is, that the Orientals do notconnect the business of the toilet with that of rest. The daily bath, with its elaborate processes, is the spot where the mind ponders on thecolour of a robe or the fashion of a turban; the daily bath, which isthe principal incident of Oriental habits, and which can scarcely besaid to exist among our own. 

Fakredeen had yielded even his own chambers to his friends. Every divanin Canobia was open, excepting the rooms of Tancred. These were sacred, and the Emir had requested his friend to receive him as a guest duringthe festival, and apportion him one of his chambers. The head of theHouse of Talhook was asleep with the tube of his nargileh in his mouth;the Yezbek had unwound his turban, cast off his sandals, wrapped himselfin his pelisses, and fairly turned in; Bishop Nicodemus was kneelingin a corner and kissing a silver cross; and Hamood Abu-neked had rolledhimself up in a carpet, and was snoring as if he were blowing throughone of the horns of the Maronites. Fakredeen shot a glance at Tancred, instantly recognised. Then, rising and giving the salaam of peace tohis guests, the Emir and his English friend made their escape down acorridor, at the bottom of which was one of the few doors that could befound in the castle of Canobia. Baroni received them, on the watchlest some cruising Sheikh should appropriate their resting-place. Theyoung-moon, almost as young and bright as it was two months before atGaza, suffused with lustre the beautiful garden of fruit and flowerswithout. Under the balcony, Baroni had placed a divan with manycushions, a lamp with burning coffee, and some fresh nargilehs. 

'Thank God, we are alone!' exclaimed Fakredeen. 'Tell me, my Tancred, what do you think of it all?'

CHAPTER XLIV. 

 _Fakredeen's Debts_

IT HAS been a great day, ' said Tancred 'not to be forgotten. '

'Yes; but what do you think of them? Are they the fellows I described;the men that might conquer the world?'

'To conquer the world depends on men not only being good soldiers, butbeing animated by some sovereign principle that nothing can resist, 'replied Tancred. 

'But that we have got, ' rejoined Fakredeen. 

'But have they got it?'

'We can give it to them. '

'I am not so sure of that. It seems to me that we are going to establisha theocratic equality by the aid of the feudal system. '

'That is to say, their present system, ' replied Fakredeen. 'Islamismwas propagated by men who were previously idolaters, and our principlemay be established by those whose practice at the present time isdirectly opposed to it. '

'I still cling to my first idea of making the movement from the desert, 'said Tancred: 'the Arabians are entirely unsophisticated; they are nowas they were in the time of Mahomet, of Moses, of Abraham: a sublimedevotion is natural to them, and equality, properly developed, is infact the patriarchal principle. '

'But these are Arabians, ' said Fakredeen; 'I am an Arabian; there is nota mookatadgi, whatever his present creed, who does not come from Yemen, or the Hedjaz, or the Nejid. '

'That is a great qualification, ' said Tancred, musingly. 

'And, see what men these are!' continued Fakredeen, with greatanimation. 'Lebanon can send forth more than fifty thousand well-armed, and yet let enough stay at home to guard the mulberry trees and thewomen. Then you can keep them for nothing; a Bedouin is not moretemperate than a Druse, if he pleases: he will get through a campaignon olives and cheese; they do not require even tents; they bivouac in asheepskin. '

'And yet, ' said Tancred, 'though they have maintained themselves, theyhave done nothing; now, the Arabs have always succeeded. '

'I will tell you how that is, ' said Fakredeen. 'It is very true that wehave not done much, and that, when we descended into the plain, as wedid in '63, under the Emir Yousef, we were beat, beaten back even by theMutualis; it is that we have no cavalry. They have always contrivedto enlist the great tribes of the Syrian desert against us, as forinstance, under Daher, of whom you must have heard: it was that whichhas prevented our development; but we have always maintained ourselves. Lebanon is the key of Syria, and the country was never unlocked unlesswe pleased. But this difficulty is now removed. Through Amalek we shallhave the desert on our side; he is omnipotent in the Syrian wilderness;and if he sends messengers through Petræa to Derayeh, the Nejid, andthrough the Hedjaz, to Yemen and Oman, we could easily get a cavalry asefficient and not less numerous than our foot. '

'The instruments will be found, ' said Tancred, 'for it is decreed thatthe deed should be done. But the favour of Providence does not exemptman from the exercise of human prudence. On the contrary, it is an agenton whose co-operation they are bound to count. I should like to seesomething of the great Syrian cities. I should like also to see Bagdad. It appears to me, at the first glance, that the whole country to theEuphrates might be conquered in a campaign; but then I want to know howfar artillery is necessary, whether it be indispensable. Then again, the Lesser Asia; we should never lose sight of the Lesser Asia as theprincipal scene of our movements; the richest regions in the world, almost depopulated, and a position from which we might magnetise Europe. But suppose the Turks, through Lesser Asia, conquer Lebanon, while weare overrunning the Babylonian and Assyrian monarchies? That will neverdo. I see your strength here with your own people and the Druses, andI do not underrate their qualities: but who is to garrison the north ofSyria? Who is to keep the passes of the North? What population have youto depend on between Tripoli and Antioch, or between Aleppo and Adanah?Of all this I know nothing. '

Fakredeen had entirely imbibed the views of Tancred; he was sincere inhis professions, fervent in his faith. A great feudal proprietor, he wasprepared to forsake his beautiful castle, his farms and villages, hisvineyards, and mulberry orchards, and forests of oaks, to assist inestablishing, by his voice and his sabre, a new social system, which wasto substitute the principle of association for that of dependence as thefoundation of the Commonwealth, under the sanction and superintendenceof the God of Sinai and of Calvary. True it was that the young SyrianEmir intended, that among the consequences of the impending movementshould be his enthronement on one of the royal seats of Asia. But weshould do him injustice, were we to convey the impression that hisardent co-operation with Tancred at this moment was impelled merely, or even principally, by these coarsely selfish considerations. Mencertainly must be governed, whatever the principle of the social system, and Fakredeen felt born with a predisposition to rule. 

But greater even than his desire for empire was his thirst for action. He was wearied with the glittering cage in which he had been born. Hepanted for a wider field and a nobler theatre, interests more vast andincidents more dazzling and comprehensive; he wished to astonish Europeinstead of Lebanon, and to use his genius in baffling and controllingthe thrones and dominations of the world, instead of managing the simpleSheikhs and Emirs of his mountains. His castle and fine estates were nosources of satisfaction to him. On the contrary, he viewed Canobia withdisgust. It entailed duties, and brought no excitement. He was seldomat home and only for a few passing days: continued residence wasintolerable to his restless spirit. He passed his life in perpetualmovement, scudding about on the fleetest dromedaries, and galloping overthe deserts on steeds of the highest race. 

Though proud of his ancient house, and not unequal, when necessary, tothe due representation of his position, unlike the Orientals in general, he disliked pomp, and shrank from the ceremony which awaited him. Hisrestless, intriguing, and imaginative spirit revelled in the incognito. He was perpetually in masquerade; a merchant, a Mamlouk, a soldier offortune, a Tartar messenger, sometimes a pilgrim, sometimes a dervish, always in pursuit of some improbable but ingenious object, or lost inthe mazes of some fantastic plot. He enjoyed moving alone without asingle attendant; and seldom in his mountains, he was perpetually inEgypt, Bagdad, Cyprus, Smyrna, and the Syrian cities. He sauntered awaya good deal of his time indeed in the ports and towns of the coast, looking after his creditors; but this was not the annoyance to him whichit would be to most men. 

Fakredeen was fond of his debts; they were the source indeed of his onlyreal excitement, and he was grateful to them for their stirring powers. The usurers of Syria are as adroit and callous as those of all othercountries, and possess no doubt all those repulsive qualities which arethe consequence of an habitual control over every generous emotion. But, instead of viewing them with feelings of vengeance or abhorrence, Fakredeen studied them unceasingly with a fine and profoundinvestigation, and found in their society a deep psychological interest. His own rapacious soul delighted to struggle with their rapine, and itcharmed him to baffle with his artifice their fraudulent dexterity. Heloved to enter their houses with his glittering eye and face radiantwith innocence, and, when things were at the very worst and theyremorseless, to succeed in circumventing them. In a certain sense, andto a certain degree, they were all his victims. True, they had gorgedupon his rents and menaced his domains; but they had also advanced largesums, and he had so involved one with another in their eager appetite toprey upon his youth, and had so complicated the financial relations ofthe Syrian coast in his own respect, that sometimes they tremblinglycalculated that the crash of Fakredeen must inevitably be the signal ofa general catastrophe. 

Even usurers have their weak side; some are vain, some envious;Fakredeen knew how to titillate their self-love, or when to give themthe opportunity of immolating a rival. Then it was, when he had baffledand deluded them, or, with that fatal frankness of which he sometimesblushingly boasted, had betrayed some sacred confidence that shookthe credit of the whole coast from Scanderoon to Gaza, and embroiledindividuals whose existence depended on their mutual goodwill, that, laughing like one of the blue-eyed hyenas of his forests, he gallopedaway to Canobia, and, calling for his nargileh, mused in chucklingcalculation over the prodigious sums he owed to them, formed whimsicaland airy projects for his quittance, or delighted himself by broodingover the memory of some happy expedient or some daring feat of finance. 

'What should I be without my debts?' he would sometimes exclaim; 'dearcompanions of my life that never desert me! All my knowledge of humannature is owing to them: it is in managing my affairs that I havesounded the depths of the human heart, recognised all the combinationsof human character, developed my own powers, and mastered the resourcesof others. What expedient in negotiation is unknown to me? What degreeof endurance have I not calculated? What play of the countenance haveI not observed? Yes, among my creditors, I have disciplined thatdiplomatic ability that shall some day confound and control cabinets. O, my debts, I feel your presence like that of guardian angels! If I belazy, you prick me to action; if elate, you subdue me to reflection;and thus it is that you alone can secure that continuous yet controlledenergy which conquers mankind. '

Notwithstanding all this, Fakredeen had grown sometimes a little weariedeven of the choice excitement of pecuniary embarrassment. It wastoo often the same story, the adventures monotonous, the charactersidentical. He had been plundered by every usurer in the Levant, and inturn had taken them in. He sometimes delighted his imagination by theidea of making them disgorge; that is to say, when he had establishedthat supremacy which he had resolved sooner or later to attain. Althoughhe never kept an account, his memory was so faithful that he knewexactly the amount of which he had been defrauded by every individualwith whom he had had transactions. He longed to mulct them, tothe service of the State, in the exact amount if their unhallowedappropriations. He was too good a statesman ever to confiscate; heconfined himself to taxation. Confiscation is a blunder that destroyspublic credit: taxation, on the contrary, improves it, and both come tothe same thing. 

That the proud soul of Tancred of Montacute, with its sublimeaspirations, its inexorable purpose, its empyrean ambition, should finda votary in one apparently so whimsical, so worldly, and so worthless, may at the first glance seem improbable; yet a nearer and finerexamination may induce us to recognise its likelihood. Fakredeen hada brilliant imagination and a passionate sensibility; his heart wascontrolled by his taste, and, when that was pleased and satisfied, hewas capable of profound feeling and of earnest conduct. Moral worthhad no abstract charms for him, and he could sympathise with a dazzlingreprobate; but virtue in an heroic form, lofty principle, and sovereignduty invested with all the attributes calculated to captivate his rapidand refined perception, exercised over him a resistless and transcendentspell. The deep and disciplined intelligence of Tancred, trained in allthe philosophy and cultured with all the knowledge of the West, actedwith magnetic power upon a consciousness the bright vivacity of whichwas only equalled by its virgin ignorance of all that books can teach, and of those great conclusions which the studious hour can aloneelaborate. Fakredeen hung upon his accents like a bee, while Tancredpoured forth, without an effort, the treasures of his stored memory andlong musing mind. He went on, quite unconscious that his companion wasdevoid of that previous knowledge, which, with all other persons, wouldhave been a preliminary qualification for a profitable comprehension ofwhat he said. Fakredeen gave him no hint of this: the young Emir trustedto his quick perception to sustain him, although his literary trainingwas confined to an Arabic grammar, some sentences of wise men, somevolumes of poetry, and mainly and most profitably to the clever Courierde Smyrne, and occasionally a packet of French journals which heobtained from a Levantine consul. 

It was therefore with a feeling not less than enthusiastic thatFakredeen responded to the suggestive influence of Tancred. The wantthat he had long suffered from was supplied, and the character he hadlong mused over had appeared. Here was a vast theory to be reduced topractice, and a commanding mind to give the leading impulse. Howeverimperfect may have been his general conception of the ideas of Tancred, he clearly comprehended that their fulfilment involved his two greatobjects, change and action. Compared with these attainments on a greatscale, his present acquisition and position sank into nothingness. Afuturity consisting of a Syrian Emirate and a mountain castle figured asintolerable, and Fakredeen, hoping all things and prepared for anything, flung to the winds all consideration for his existing ties, whether inthe shape of domains or of debts. 

The imperturbable repose, the grave and thoughtful daring, with whichTancred developed his revolutionary projects, completed the power withwhich he could now dispose of the fate of the young Emir. Sometimes, in fluttering moments of disordered reverie, Fakredeen had indulged indreams of what, with his present companion, it appeared was to be theordinary business of their lives, and which he discussed with a calmprecision which alone half convinced Fakredeen of their feasibility. It was not for an impassioned votary to intimate a difficulty; but ifFakredeen, to elicit an opinion, sometimes hinted an adverse suggestion, the objection was swept away in an instant by an individual whoseinflexible will was sustained by the conviction of divine favour. 

CHAPTER XLV. 

 _The People of Ansarey_

DO YOU know anything of a people in the north of this country, calledthe Ansarey?' inquired Tancred of Baroni. 

'No, my lord; and no one else. They hold the mountainous country aboutAntioch, and will let no one enter it; a very warlike race; they beatback the Egyptians; but Ibrahim Pasha loaded his artillery with piastresthe second time he attacked them, and they worked very well with thePasha after that. ' 'Are they Moslemin?'

'It is very easy to say what they are not, and that is about the extentof any knowledge that we have of them; they are not Moslemin, theyare not Christians, they are not Druses, and they are not Jews, andcertainly they are not Guebres, for I have spoken of them to the Indiansat Djedda, who are fire-worshippers, and they do not in any degreeacknowledge them. '

'And what is their race? Are they Arabs?' 'I should say not, my lord;for the only one I ever saw was more like a Greek or an Armenian than ason of the desert. '

'You have seen one of them?'

'It was at Damascus: there was a city brawl, and M. De Sidonia saved thelife of a man, who turned out to be an Ansarey, though disguised. Theyhave secret agents at most of the Syrian cities. They speak Arabic; butI have heard M. De Sidonia say they have also a language of their own. '

'I wonder he did not visit them. '

'The plague raged at Aleppo when we were there, and the Ansarey weredoubly rigid in their exclusion of all strangers from their country. '

'And this Ansarey at Damascus, have you ever seen anything of himsince?'

'Yes; I have been at Damascus several times since I travelled with M. DeSidonia, and I have sometimes smoked a nargileh with this man: his nameis Dar-kush, and he deals in drugs. '

Now this was the reason that induced Tancred to inquire of Baronirespecting the Ansarey. The day before, which was the third day ofthe great hunting party at Canobia, Fakredeen and Tancred had foundthemselves alone with Hamood Abuneked, and the lord of Canobia hadthought it a good occasion to sound this powerful Sheikh of the Druses. Hamood was rough, but frank and sincere. He was no enemy of the Houseof Shehaab; but the Abunekeds had suffered during the wars and civilconflicts which had of late years prevailed in Lebanon, and he wasevidently disinclined to mix in any movement which was not well maturedand highly promising of success. Fakredeen, of course, concealed hisulterior purpose from the Druse, who associated with the idea of unionbetween the two nations merely the institution of a sole governmentunder one head, and that head a Shehaab, probably dwelling at Canobia. 

'I have fought by the side of the Emir Bescheer, ' said Hamood, 'andwould he were in his palace of Bteddeen at this moment! And theAbunekeds rode with the Emir Yousef against Djezzar. It is not the Houseof Abuneked that would say there should be two weak nations when theremight be one strong one. But what I say is sealed with the signet oftruth; it is known to the old, and it is remembered by the wise; theEmir Bescheer has said it to me as many times as there are oranges onthat tree, and the Emir Yousef has said it to my father. The northernpasses are not guarded by Maronite or by Druse. '

'And as long as they are not guarded by us?' said Fakredeen, inquiringly. 

'We may have a sole prince and a single government, ' continued Hamood, 'and the houses of the two nations may be brothers, but every now andthen the Osmanli will enter the mountain, and we shall eat sand. '

'And who holds the northern passes, noble Sheikh?' inquired Tancred. 

'Truly, I believe, ' replied Hamood, 'very sons of Eblis, for the wholeof that country is in the hands of Ansarey, and there never has beenevil in the mountain that they have not been against us. '

'They never would draw with the Shehaabs, ' said Fakredeen; 'and I haveheard the Emir Bescheer say that, if the Ansarey had acted with him, hewould have baffled, in '40, both the Porte and the Pasha. '

'It was the same in the time of the Emir Yousef, ' said Sheikh Hamood. 'They can bring twenty-five thousand picked men into the plain. '

'And I suppose, if it were necessary, would not be afraid to meet theOsmanli in Anatoly?' said Fakredeen. 

'If the Turkmans or the Kurds would join them, ' said Sheikh Hamood, 'there is nothing to prevent their washing their horses' feet in theBosphorus. '

'It is strange, ' said Fakredeen, 'but frequently as I have been atAleppo and Antioch, I have never been in their country. I have alwaysbeen warned against it, always kept from it, which indeed ought to haveprompted my earliest efforts, when I was my own master, to make thema visit. But, I know not how it is, there are some prejudices that dostick to one. I have a prejudice against the Ansarey, a sort of fear, akind of horror. 'Tis vastly absurd. I suppose my nurse instilled it intome, and frightened me with them when I would not sleep. Besides, I hadan idea that they particularly hated the Shehaabs. I recollect so wellthe Emir Bescheer, at Bteddeen, bestowing endless imprecations on them. '

'He made many efforts to win them, though, ' said Sheikh Hamood, 'and sodid the Emir Yousef. '

'And you think without them, noble Sheikh, ' said Tancred, 'that Syria isnot secure?'

'I think, with them and peace with the desert, that Syria might defyTurk and Egyptian. '

'And carry the war into the enemy's quarters, if necessary?' saidFakredeen. 

'If they would let us alone, I am content to leave them, ' said Hamood. 

'Hem!' said the Emir Fakredeen. 'Do you see that gazelle, noble Sheikh?How she bounds along! What if we follow her, and the pursuit should leadus into the lands of the Ansarey?'

'It would be a long ride, ' said Sheikh Hamood. 'Nor should I care muchto trust my head in a country governed by a woman. '

'A woman!' exclaimed Tancred and Fakredeen. 

'They say as much, ' said Sheikh Hamood; 'perhaps it is only acoffee-house tale. '

'I never heard it before, ' said Fakredeen. 'In the time of my uncle, Elderidis was Sheikh. I have heard indeed that the Ansarey worship awoman. '

'Then they would be Christians, ' said Sheikh Hamood, 'and I never heardthat. '

CHAPTER XLVI. 

 _The Laurellas_

IT WAS destined that Napoleon should never enter Rome, and Mahomet neverenter Damascus. What was the reason of this? They were not uninterestedin those cities that interest all. The Emperor selected from the capitalof the Cæsars the title of his son; the Prophet, when he beheld thecrown of Syria, exclaimed that it was too delightful, and that he mustreserve his paradise for another world. Buonaparte was an Italian, andmust have often yearned after the days of Rome triumphant. The son ofAbdallah was descended from the patriarchs, whose progenitor had beenmoulded out of the red clay of the most ancient city in the world. Absorbed by the passionate pursuit of the hour, the two heroes postponeda gratification which they knew how to appreciate, but which, with alltheir success, all their power, and all their fame, they were neverpermitted to indulge. What moral is to be drawn from this circumstance?That we should never lose an occasion. Opportunity is more powerful eventhan conquerors and prophets. 

The most ancient city of the world has no antiquity. This flourishingabode is older than many ruins, yet it does not possess one singlememorial of the past. In vain has it conquered or been conquered. Not atrophy, a column, or an arch, records its warlike fortunes. Temples havebeen raised here to unknown gods and to revealed Divinity; all have beenswept away. Not the trace of a palace or a prison, a public bath, a hallof justice, can be discovered in this wonderful city, where everythinghas been destroyed, and where nothing has decayed. 

Men moralise among ruins, or, in the throng and tumult of successfulcities, recall past visions of urban desolation for prophetic warning. London is a modern Babylon; Paris has aped imperial Rome, and may shareits catastrophe. But what do the sages say to Damascus? It had municipalrights in the days when God conversed with Abraham. Since then, thekings of the great monarchies have swept over it; and the Greek and theRoman, the Tartar, the Arab, and the Turk have passed through its walls;yet it still exists and still flourishes; is full of life, wealth, and enjoyment. Here is a city that has quaffed the magical elixir andsecured the philosopher's stone, that is always young and always rich. As yet, the disciples of progress have not been able exactly to matchthis instance of Damascus, but it is said that they have great faith inthe future of Birkenhead. 

We moralise among ruins: it is always when the game is played that wediscover the cause of the result. It is a fashion intensely European, the habit of an organisation that, having little imagination, takesrefuge in reason, and carefully locks the door when the steed is stolen. A community has crumbled to pieces, and it is always accounted for byits political forms, or its religious modes. There has been a deficiencyin what is called checks in the machinery of government; the definitionof the suffrage has not been correct; what is styled responsibility has, by some means or other, not answered; or, on the other hand, people havebelieved too much or too little in a future state, have been too muchengrossed by the present, or too much absorbed in that which was tocome. But there is not a form of government which Damascus has notexperienced, excepting the representative, and not a creed which it hasnot acknowledged, excepting the Protestant. Yet, deprived of the onlyrule and the only religion that are right, it is still justly describedby the Arabian poets as a pearl surrounded by emeralds. 

Yes, the rivers of Damascus still run and revel within and without thewalls, of which the steward of Sheikh Abraham was a citizen. They haveencompassed them with gardens, and filled them with fountains. Theygleam amid their groves of fruit, wind through their vivid meads, sparkle-among perpetual flowers, gush from the walls, bubble in thecourtyards, dance and carol in the streets: everywhere their joyousvoices, everywhere their glancing forms, filling the whole world aroundwith freshness, and brilliancy, and fragrance, and life. One mightfancy, as we track them in their dazzling course, or suddenly makingtheir appearance in every spot and in every scene, that they werethe guardian spirits of the city. You have explained them, says theutilitarian, the age and flourishing fortunes of Damascus: they arisefrom its advantageous situation; it is well supplied with water. 

Is it better supplied than the ruins of contiguous regions? Did the Nilesave Thebes? Did the Tigris preserve Nineveh? Did the Euphrates secureBabylon?

Our scene lies in a chamber vast and gorgeous. The reader must imagine ahall, its form that of a rather long square, but perfectly proportioned. Its coved roof, glowing with golden and scarlet tints, is highly carvedin the manner of the Saracens, such as we may observe in the palacesof Moorish Spain and in the Necropolis of the Mamlouk Sultans at Cairo, deep recesses of honeycomb work, with every now and then pendants ofdaring grace hanging like stalactites from some sparry cavern. This roofis supported by columns of white marble, fashioned in the shape of palmtrees, the work of Italian artists, and which forms arcades around thechamber. Beneath these arcades runs a noble divan of green and silversilk, and the silken panels of the arabesque walls have been coveredwith subjects of human interest by the finest artists of Munich. Themarble floor, with its rich mosaics, was also the contribution ofItalian genius, though it was difficult at the present moment to traceits varied, graceful, and brilliant designs, so many were the sumptuouscarpets, the couches, sofas, and cushions that were spread about it. There were indeed throughout the chamber many indications of furniture, which are far from usual even among the wealthiest and most refinedOrientals: Indian tables, vases of china, and baskets of agate andporcelain filled with flowers. From one side, the large Saracenicwindows of this saloon, which were not glazed, but covered only whenrequired by curtains of green and silver silk, now drawn aside, lookedon a garden; vistas of quivering trees, broad parterres of flowers, and everywhere the gleam of glittering fountains, which owned, however, fealty to the superior stream that bubbled in the centre of the saloon, where four negroes, carved in black marble, poured forth its refreshingwaters from huge shells of pearl, into the vast circle of a jasperbasin. 

At this moment the chamber was enlivened by the presence of manyindividuals. Most of these were guests; one was the master of thecolumns and the fountains; a man much above the middle height, though aswell proportioned as his sumptuous hall; admirably handsome, for beautyand benevolence blended in the majestic countenance of Adam Besso. To-day his Syrian robes were not unworthy of his palace; the cream-whiteshawl that encircled his brow with its ample folds was so fine that themerchant who brought it to him carried it over the ocean and the desertin the hollow shell of a pomegranate. In his girdle rested a handjar, the sheath of which was of a rare and vivid enamel, and the hiltentirely of brilliants. 

A slender man of middle size, who, as he stood by Besso, had adiminutive appearance, was in earnest conversation with his host. Thispersonage was adorned with more than one order, and dressed in the Frankuniform of one of the Great Powers, though his head was shaven, forhe wore a tarboush or red cap, although no turban. This gentleman wasSignor Elias de Laurella, a wealthy Hebrew merchant at Damascus, andAustrian consul-general _ad honorem_; a great man, almost as celebratedfor his diplomatic as for his mercantile abilities; a gentleman whounderstood the Eastern question; looked up to for that, but still more, in that he was the father of the two prettiest girls in the Levant. 

The Mesdemoiselles de Laurella, Thérèse and Sophonisbe, had justcompleted their education, partly at Smyrna, the last year atMarseilles. This had quite turned their heads; they had come back with acontempt for Syria, the bitterness of which was only veiled by the highstyle of European nonchalance, of which they had a supreme command, andwhich is, perhaps, our only match for Eastern repose. The Mesdemoisellesde Laurella were highly accomplished, could sing quite ravishingly, paint fruits and flowers, and drop to each other, before surroundingsavages, mysterious allusions to feats in ballrooms, which, alas! nolonger could be achieved. They signified, and in some degree solaced, their intense disgust at their present position by a haughty andamusingly impassable demeanour, which meant to convey their superiorityto all surrounding circumstances. One of their favourite modes ofasserting this pre-eminence was wearing the Frank dress, which theirfather only did officially, and which no female member of their familyhad ever assumed, though Damascus swarmed with Laurellas. Nothing in thedreams of Madame Carson, or Madame Camille, or Madame Devey, nothing inthe blazoned pages of the Almanachs des Dames and Belle Assemblée, everapproached the Mdlles. Laurella, on a day of festival. It was the acme. Nothing could be conceived beyond it; nobody could equal it. It wastaste exaggerated, if that be possible; fashion baffling pursuit, ifthat be permitted. It was a union of the highest moral and materialqualities; the most sublime contempt and the stiffest cambric. Figure toyourself, in such habiliments, two girls, of the same features, thesame form, the same size, but of different colour: a nose turned up, butchoicely moulded, large eyes, and richly fringed; fine hair, beautifullips and teeth, but the upper lip and the cheek bones rather too longand high, and the general expression of the countenance, when notaffected, more sprightly than intelligent. Thérèse was a brunette, but her eye wanted softness as much as the blue orb of the brilliantSophonisbe. Nature and Art had combined to produce their figures, and itwas only the united effort of two such first-rate powers that could havecreated anything so admirable. 

This was the first visit of the Mesdemoiselles Laurella to the familyof Besso, for they had only returned from Marseilles at the beginningof the year, and their host had not resided at Damascus until the summerwas much advanced. Of course they were well acquainted by reputationwith the great Hebrew house of which the lord of the mansion was thechief. They had been brought up to esteem it the main strength andornament of their race and religion. But the Mesdemoiselles Laurellawere ashamed of their race, and not fanatically devoted to theirreligion, which might be true, but certainly was not fashionable. Thérèse, who was of a less sanguineous temperament than her sister, affected despair and unutterable humiliation, which permitted her tosay before her own people a thousand disagreeable things with an air ofartless frankness. The animated Sophonisbe, on the contrary, was alwayscombating prejudice, felt persuaded that the Jews would not be so muchdisliked if they were better known; that all they had to do was toimitate as closely as possible the habits and customs of the nationamong whom they chanced to live; and she really did believe thateventually, such was the progressive spirit of the age, a differencein religion would cease to be regarded, and that a respectable Hebrew, particularly if well dressed and well mannered, might be able topass through society without being discovered, or at least noticed. Consummation of the destiny of the favourite people of the Creator ofthe universe!

Notwithstanding their practised nonchalance, the Mesdemoiselles Laurellawere a little subdued when they entered the palace of Besso, still moreso when they were presented to its master, whose manner, void of allart, yet invested with a natural dignity, asserted in an instant itssuperiority. Eva, whom they saw for the first time, received them likea queen, and in a dress which offered as complete a contrast to theirmodish attire as the beauty of her sublime countenance presented totheir pretty and sparkling visages. 

Madame Laurella, the mother of these young ladies, would in Europe havebeen still styled young. She was a Smyrniote, and had been a celebratedbeauty. The rose had since then too richly expanded, but even now, withher dark eyelash charged with yamusk, her cheek touched with rouge, andher fingers tipped with henna, her still fine hair exaggerated by artor screened by her jewelled turban, she would have been a strikingpersonage, even if it had not been for the blaze of jewels withwhich she was suffused and environed. The existence of this lady wasconcentred in her precious gems. An extreme susceptibility on this headis very prevalent among the ladies of the Levant, and the quantityof jewels that they accumulate far exceeds the general belief. MadameLaurella was without a rival in this respect, and resolved to maintainher throne; diamonds alone did not satisfy her; immense emeralds, rubiesas big as pigeons' eggs, prodigious ropes of pearls, were studded andwound about every part of her rich robes. Every finger glittered, and bracelets flashed beneath her hanging sleeves. She sat in silentsplendour on a divan, now and then proudly moving a fan of feathers, lost in criticism of the jewels of her friends, and in contemplation ofher own. 

A young man, tall and well-looking, dressed as an Oriental, but with anaffected, jerking air, more French than Syrian, moved jauntily aboutthe room, speaking to several persons for a short time, shrugginghis shoulders and uttering commonplaces as if they were poignantoriginalities. This was Hillel Besso, the eldest son of the Besso ofAleppo, and the intended husband of Eva. Hillel, too, had seen theworld, passed a season at Pera, where he had worn the Frank dress, and, introduced into the circles by the lady of the Austrian Internuncio, had found success and enjoyed himself. He had not, however, returnedto Syria with any of the disgust shared by the Mesdemoiselles Laurella. Hillel was neither ashamed of his race nor his religion: on thecontrary, he was perfectly satisfied with this life, with the familyof Besso in general, and with himself particularly. Hillel was a littlephilosophical, had read Voltaire, and, free from prejudices, conceivedhimself capable of forming correct opinions. He listened smiling and insilence to Eva asserting the splendour and superiority of their race, and sighing for the restoration of their national glory, and thenwould say, in a whisper to a friend, and with a glance of epigrammaticairiness, 'For my part, I am not so sure that we were ever better offthan we are. '

He stopped and conversed with Thérèse Laurella, who at first wasunbending, but when she found that he was a Besso, and had listened toone or two anecdotes which indicated personal acquaintance not onlywith ambassadors but with ambassadors' ladies, she began to relax. Ingeneral, however, the rest of the ladies did not speak, or made onlyobservations to each other in a hushed voice. Conversation is not theaccomplishment of these climes and circles. They seemed content toshow their jewels to their neighbours. There was a very fat lady, ofprodigious size, the wife of Signor Yacoub Picholoroni, who was also aconsul, but not a consul-general _in honorem_. She looked like a hugeChinese idol; a perpetual smile played upon her immense good-naturedcheeks, and her little black eyes twinkled with continuous satisfaction. There were the Mourad Farhis and the Nas-sim Farhis. There were MosesLaurella and his wife, who shone with the reflected splendour of thegreat Laurellas, but who were really very nice people; sensible and mostobliging, as all travellers must have found them. Moses Laurella wasvice-consul to his brother. The Farhis had no diplomatic lustre, butthey were great merchants, and worked with the House of Besso in alltheir enterprises. They had married two sisters, who were also theircousins. Madame Mourad Farhi was in the zenith of her renowned beauty;in the gorgeous Smyrniote style, brilliant yet languid, like a pantherbasking in the sunshine. Her sister also had a rich countenance, anda figure like a palm tree, while her fine brow beamed alike withintelligence and beauty. Madame, Nassim was highly cultured, enthusiastic for her race, and proud of the friendship of Eva, of whichshe was worthy. 

There were also playing about the room three or four children of suchdazzling beauty and such ineffable grace that no pen can picture theirseraphic glances or gestures of airy frolic. Sometimes serious, fromexhaustion not from thought; sometimes wild with the witchery of infantriot; a laughing girl with hair almost touching the ground, and largegrey eyes bedewed with lustrous mischief, tumbles over an urchin whorises doubtful whether to scream or shout; sometimes they pull therobe of Besso while he talks, who goes on, as if unconscious of theinterruption; sometimes they rush up to their mother or Eva for anembrace; sometimes they run up to the fat lady, look with wonderinggravity in her face, and then, bursting into laughter, scud away. Theseare the children of a sister of Hillel Besso, brought to Damascus forchange of air. Their mother is also here, sitting at the side of Eva: asoft and pensive countenance, watching the children with her intelligentblue eyes, or beckoning to them with a beautiful hand. 

The men in general remained on their legs apart, conversing as if theywere on the Bourse. 

Now entered, from halls beyond of less dimensions, but all decoratedwith similar splendour, a train of servants, two of whom carried betweenthem a large broad basket of silver filigree, filled with branches ofthe palm tree entwined with myrtle, while another bore a golden basketof a different shape, and which was filled with citrons just gathered. These they handed to the guests, and each guest took a branch with theright hand and a citron with the left. The conversation of Besso withElias Laurella had been broken by their entrance, and a few minutesafterwards, the master of the house, looking about, held up his branch, shook it with a rustling sound, and immediately Eva was at his side. 

The daughter of Besso wore a vest of white silk, fitting close to hershape and descending to her knees; it was buttoned with large diamondsand restrained by a girdle of pearls; anklets of brilliants peepedalso, every now and then, from beneath her large Mamlouk trousers ofrose-coloured silk that fell over her slippers, powdered with diamonds. Over her vest she wore the Syrian jacket, made of cherry-colouredvelvet, its open arms and back richly embroidered, though these werenow much concealed by her outer pelisse, a brocade of India, massy withgold, and yet relieved from heaviness by the brilliancy of its lightblue tint and the dazzling fantasy of its pattern. This was looselybound round her waist by a Moorish scarf of the colour of a blood-redorange, and bordered with a broad fringe of precious stones. Herhead-dress was of the same fashion as when we first met her in the kioskof Bethany, except that, on this occasion, her Syrian cap on the backof her head was covered only with diamonds, and only with diamonds wasbraided her long dark hair. 

'They will never come, ' said Besso to his daughter. 'It was one of hisfreaks. We will not wait. '

'I am sure, my father, they will come, ' said Eva, earnestly. And indeed, at this very moment, as she stood at his side, holding in one hand herpalm branch, which was reposing on her bosom, and in the other her freshcitron, the servants appeared again, ushering in two guests who had justarrived. One was quite a stranger, a young man dressed in the Europeanfashion; the other was recognised at once by all present as the Emir ofCanobia. 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

 _The Feast of Tabernacles_

EVA had withdrawn from her father to her former remote position, themoment that she had recognised the two friends, and was, therefore, not in hearing when her father received them, and said, 'Welcome, noblestranger! the noble Emir here, to whom a thousand welcomes, told me thatyou would not be averse from joining a festival of my people. '

'I would seize any opportunity to pay my respects to you, ' repliedTancred; 'but this occasion is most agreeable to me. '

'And when, noble traveller, did you arrive at Esh Sham?'

'But this morning; we were last from Hasbeya. ' Tancred then inquiredafter Eva, and Besso led him to his daughter. 

In the meantime the arrival of the new guests made a considerablesensation in the chamber, especially with the Mesdemoiselles Laurella. Ayoung prince of the Lebanon, whatever his religion, was a distinguishedand agreeable accession to their circle, but in Tancred they recogniseda being at once civilised and fashionable, a Christian who could dancethe polka. Refreshing as springs in the desert to their long languishingeyes were the sight of his white cravat and his boots of Parisianpolish. 

'It is one of our great national festivals, ' said Eva, slightly wavingher palm branch; 'the celebration of the Hebrew vintage, the Feast ofTabernacles. '

The vineyards of Israel have ceased to exist, but the eternal lawenjoins the children of Israel still to celebrate the vintage. A racethat persist in celebrating their vintage, although they have no fruitsto gather, will regain their vineyards. What sublime inexorability inthe law! But what indomitable spirit in the people!

It is easy for the happier Sephardim, the Hebrews who have never quittedthe sunny regions that are laved by the Midland Ocean; it is easy forthem, though they have lost their heritage, to sympathise, in theirbeautiful Asian cities or in their Moorish and Arabian gardens, with thegraceful rights that are, at least, an homage to a benignant nature. But picture to yourself the child of Israel in the dingy suburb or thesqualid quarter of some bleak northern town, where there is never a sunthat can at any rate ripen grapes. Yet he must celebrate the vintageof purple Palestine! The law has told him, though a denizen in an icyclime, that he must dwell for seven days in a bower, and that he mustbuild it of the boughs of thick trees; and the Rabbins have told himthat these thick trees are the palm, the myrtle, and the weeping willow. Even Sarmatia may furnish a weeping willow. The law has told him thathe must pluck the fruit of goodly trees, and the Rabbins have explainedthat goodly fruit on this occasion is confined to the citron. Perhaps, in his despair, he is obliged to fly to the candied delicacies ofthe grocer. His mercantile connections will enable him, often atconsiderable cost, to procure some palm leaves from Canaan, which hemay wave in his synagogue while he exclaims, as the crowd did when theDivine descendant of David entered Jerusalem, 'Hosanna in the highest!'

There is something profoundly interesting in this devoted observanceof Oriental customs in the heart of our Saxon and Sclavonian cities; inthese descendants of the Bedouins, who conquered Canaan more than threethousand years ago, still celebrating that success which secured theirforefathers, for the first time, grapes and wine. 

Conceive a being born and bred in the Judenstrasse of Hamburg orFrankfort, or rather in the purlieus of our Houndsditch or Minories, born to hereditary insult, without any education, apparently without acircumstance that can develop the slightest taste, or cherish the leastsentiment for the beautiful, living amid fogs and filth, never treatedwith kindness, seldom with justice, occupied with the meanest, ifnot the vilest, toil, bargaining for frippery, speculating in usury, existing for ever under the concurrent influence of degrading causeswhich would have worn out, long ago, any race that was not of theunmixed blood of Caucasus, and did not adhere to the laws of Moses;conceive such a being, an object to you of prejudice, dislike, disgust, perhaps hatred. The season arrives, and the mind and heart of that beingare filled with images and passions that have been ranked in all agesamong the most beautiful and the most genial of human experience; filledwith a subject the most vivid, the most graceful, the most joyous, andthe most exuberant; a subject which has inspired poets, and which hasmade gods; the harvest of the grape in the native regions of the Vine. 

He rises in the morning, goes early to some White-chapel market, purchases some willow boughs for which he has previously givena commission, and which are brought, probably, from one of theneighbouring rivers of Essex, hastens home, cleans out the yard of hismiserable tenement, builds his bower, decks it, even profusely, with thefinest flowers and fruits that he can procure, the myrtle and the citronnever forgotten, and hangs its roof with variegated lamps. After theservice of his synagogue, he sups late with his wife and his children inthe open air, as if he were in the pleasant villages of Galilee, beneathits sweet and starry sky. 

Perhaps, as he is giving the Keedush, the Hebrew blessing to the Hebrewmeal, breaking and distributing the bread, and sanctifying, with apreliminary prayer, the goblet of wine he holds, the very ceremony whichthe Divine Prince of Israel, nearly two thousand years ago, adoptedat the most memorable of all repasts, and eternally invested witheucharistic grace; or, perhaps, as he is offering up the peculiarthanksgiving of the Feast of Tabernacles, praising Jehovah for thevintage which his children may no longer cull, but also for His promisethat they may some day again enjoy it, and his wife and his children arejoining in a pious Hosanna, that is, Save us! a party of Anglo-Saxons, very respectable men, ten-pounders, a little elevated it may be, thoughcertainly not in honour of the vintage, pass the house, and words likethese are heard:

'I say, Buggins, what's that row?'

'Oh! it's those cursed Jews! we've a lot of 'em here. It is one of theirhorrible feasts. The Lord Mayor ought to interfere. However, things arenot as bad as they used to be: they used always to crucify little boysat these hullabaloos, but now they only eat sausages made of stinkingpork. '

'To be sure, ' replies his companion, 'we all make progress. '

In the meantime, a burst of music sounds from the gardens of Besso ofDamascus. He advances, and invites Tancred and the Emir to followhim, and, without any order or courtesy to the softer sex, who, onthe contrary, follow in the rear, the whole company step out of theSaracenic windows into the gardens. The mansion of Besso, which wasof great extent, appeared to be built in their midst. No other roof orbuilding was in any direction visible, yet the house was truly in themiddle of the city, and the umbrageous plane trees alone produced thatillimitable air which is always so pleasing and effective. The house, though lofty for an eastern mansion, was only one story in height, yetits front was covered with an external and double staircase. This, aftera promenade in the garden, the guests approached and mounted. It ledto the roof or terrace of the house, which was of great size, an oblongsquare, and which again was a garden. Myrtle trees of a considerableheight, and fragrant with many flowers, were arranged in close orderalong the four sides of this roof, forming a barrier which no eye fromthe city beneath or any neighbouring terrace could penetrate. Thisverdant bulwark, however, opened at each corner of the roof, which wasoccupied by a projecting pavilion of white marble, a light cupola ofchequered carving supported by wreathed columns. From these pavilionsthe most charming views might be obtained of the city and thesurrounding country: Damascus, itself a varied mass of dark greengroves, white minarets, bright gardens, and hooded domes; to the southand east, at the extremity of its rich plain, the glare of the desert;to the west the ranges of the Lebanon; while the city was backed on thenorth by other mountain regions which Tancred had not yet penetrated. 

In the centre of the terrace was a temporary structure of a peculiarcharacter. It was nearly forty feet long, half as many broad, andproportionately lofty. Twelve palm trees clustering with ripe fruit, and each of which seemed to spring from a flowering hedge of myrtles, supported a roof formed with much artifice of the braided boughs oftrees. These, however, only furnished an invisible framework, fromwhich were suspended the most beautiful and delicious fruits, citron andpomegranate, orange, and fig, and banana, and melon, in such thicknessand profusion that they formed, as it were, a carved ceiling of richshades and glowing colours, like the Saracenic ceiling of the mansion, while enormous bunches of grapes every now and then descended likependants from the main body of the roof. The spaces between the palmtrees were filled with a natural trellis-work of orange trees in fruitand blossom, leaving at intervals arches of entrance, whose form wasindicated by bunches of the sweetest and rarest flowers. 

Within was a banqueting-table covered with thick white damask silk, with a border of gold about a foot in breadth, and before each guest wasplaced a napkin of the same fashion. The table, however, lacked noneof the conveniences and luxuries and even ornaments of Europe. Whatcan withstand the united influence of taste, wealth, and commerce? Thechoicest porcelain of France, golden goblets chiselled in Bond Street, and the prototypes of which had perhaps been won at Goodwood or Ascot, mingled with the rarest specimens of the glass of Bohemia, while thetriumphant blades of Sheffield flashed in that very Syrian city whoseskill in cutlery had once been a proverb. Around the table was a divanof amber-coloured satin with many cushions, so arranged that theguests might follow either the Oriental or the European mode of seatingthemselves. Such was the bower or tabernacle of Besso of Damascus, prepared to celebrate the seventh day of his vintage feast. 

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

 _Eva's Affianced Bridegroom_

WE OUGHT to have met at Jerusalem, ' said Tancred to Besso, on whoseright hand he was seated, 'but I am happy to thank you for allyour kindness, even at Damascus. ' 'My daughter tells me you are notuninterested in our people, which is the reason I ventured to ask youhere. '

'I cannot comprehend how a Christian can be uninterested in a people whohave handed down to him immortal truths. '

'All the world is not as sensible of the obligation as yourself, nobletraveller. '

'But who are the world? Do you mean the inhabitants of Europe, which isa forest not yet cleared; or the inhabitants of Asia, which is a ruinabout to tumble?'

'The railroads will clear the forest, ' said Besso. 'And what is tobecome of the ruin?' asked Tancred. 

'God will not forget His land. ' 'That is the truth; the government ofthis globe must be divine, and the impulse can only come from Asia. '

'If your government only understood the Eastern question!' said Mr. Consul-General Laurella, pricking up his ears at some half phrase thathe had caught, and addressing Tancred across the table. 'It is moresimple than you imagine, and before you return to England to takeyour seat in your Parliament, I should be very happy to have someconversation with you. 

I think I could tell you some things----' and he gave a glance ofdiplomatic mystery. Tancred bowed. 

'For my part, ' said Hillel Besso, shrugging his shoulders, and speakingin an airy tone, 'it seems to me that your Eastern question is a greatimbroglio that only exists in the cabinets of diplomatists. Why shouldthere be any Eastern question? All is very well as it is. At least wemight be worse: I think we might be worse. '

'I am so happy to find myself once more among you, ' whispered Fakredeento his neighbour, Madame Mourad Farhi. 'This is my real home. '

'All here must be happy and honoured to see you, too, noble Emir. '

'And the good Signor Mourad: I am afraid I am not a favourite of his?'pursued Fakredeen, meditating a loan. 

'I never heard my husband speak of you, noble Emir, but with thegreatest consideration. '

'There is no man I respect so much, ' said Fakredeen; 'no one in whom Ihave such a thorough confidence. Excepting our dear host, who is reallymy father, there is no one on whose judgment I would so implicitly rely. Tell him all that, my dear Madame Mourad, for I wish him to respect me. '

'I admire his hair so much, ' whispered Thérèse Laurella, in an audiblevoice to her sister, across the broad form of the ever-smiling MadamePicholoroni. 'Tis such a relief after our dreadful turbans. '

'And his costume, so becoming! I wonder how any civilised being canwear the sort of things we see about us. 'Tis really altogether like awardrobe of the Comédie. '

'Well, Sophonisbe, ' said the sensible Moses Laurella, 'I admire theFranks very much; they have many qualities which I could wish ourLevantines shared; but I confess that I do not think that their strongpoint is their costume. '

'Oh, my dear uncle!' said Thérèse; 'look at that beautiful white cravat. What have we like it? So simple, so distinguished! Such good taste! Andthen the boots. Think of our dreadful slippers! powdered with pearlsand all sorts of trash of that kind, by the side of that lovely Frenchpolish. '

'He must be terribly _ennuyé_ here, ' said Thérèse to Sophonisbe, with alook of the initiated. 

'Indeed, I should think so: no balls, not an opera; I quite pity him. What could have induced him to come here?'

'I should think he must be attached to some one, ' said Thérèse: 'helooks unhappy. '

'There is not a person near him with whom he can have an idea incommon. '

'Except Mr. Hillel Besso, ' said Thérèse. 'He appears to be quiteenlightened. I spoke to him a little before dinner. He has been a winterat Pera, and went to all the balls. '

'Lord Palmerston understood the Eastern question to a certain degree, 'said Mr. Consul-General Laurella; 'but, had I been in the service ofthe Queen of England, I could have told him some things;' and hemysteriously paused. 

'I cannot endure this eternal chatter about Palmerston, ' said the Emir, rather pettishly. 'Are there no other statesmen in the world besidesPalmerston? And what should he know about the Eastern question, whonever was in the East?'

'Ah, noble Emir, these are questions of the high diplomacy. They cannotbe treated unless by the cabinets which have traditions. '

'I could settle the Eastern question in a month, if I were disposed, 'said Fakredeen. 

Mr. Consul-General Laurella smiled superciliously, and then said, 'Butthe question is, what is the Eastern question?'

'For my part, ' said Hillel Besso, in a most epigrammatic manner, 'I donot see the use of settling anything. '

'The Eastern question is, who shall govern the Mediterranean?' said theEmir. 'There are only two powers who can do it: Egypt and Syria. As forthe English, the Russians, the Franks, your friends the Austrians, theyare strangers. They come, and they will go; but Syria and Egypt willalways remain. '

'Egypt has tried, and failed. '

'Then let Syria try, and succeed. '

'Do you visit Egypt before you return from the East, noble sir?' askedBesso, of Tancred. 

'I have not thought of my return; but I should not be sorry to visitEgypt. It is a country that rather perplexes us in Europe. It hasundergone great changes. '

Besso shook his head, and slightly smiled. 

'Egypt, ' said he, 'never changes. 'Tis the same land as in the days ofthe Pharaohs: governed on their principles of political economy, with aHebrew for prime minister. '

'A Hebrew for prime minister!'

'Even so: Artim Bey, the present prime minister of Egypt, formerlythe Pasha's envoy at Paris, and by far the best political head in theLevant, is not only the successor but the descendant of Joseph. '

'He must be added then to your friend M. De Sidonia's list of livingHebrew statesmen, ' said Tancred. 

'We have our share of the government of the world, ' said Besso. 

'It seems to me that you govern every land except your own. '

'That might have been done in '39, ' said Besso musingly; 'but why speakof a subject which can little interest you?'

'Can little interest me!' exclaimed Tancred. 'What other subject shouldinterest me? More than six centuries ago, the government of that landinterested my ancestor, and he came here to achieve it. '

The stars were shining before they quitted the Arabian tabernacle ofBesso. The air was just as soft as a sweet summer English noon, andquite as still. The pavilions of the terrace and the surrounding bowerswere illuminated by the varying tints of a thousand lamps. Brightcarpets and rich cushions were thrown about for those who cared torecline; the brothers Farhi, for example, and indeed most of the men, smoking inestimable nargilehs. The Consul-General Laurella beggedpermission to present Lord Montacute to his daughters Thérèse andSophonisbe, who, resolved to show to him that Damascus was notaltogether so barbarous as he deemed it, began talking of new dances andthe last opera. Tancred would have found great difficulty in sustaininghis part in the conversation, had not the young ladies fortunately beenrequested to favour those present with a specimen of the art in whichthey excelled, which they did after much solicitation, vowing that theyhad no voice to-night, and that it was impossible at all times to singexcept in a chamber. 

'For my part, ' said Hillel Besso, with an extremely piquant air, 'musicin a chamber is very charming, but I think also in the open air it isnot so bad. '

Tancred took advantage of this movement to approach Eva, who wasconversing, as they took their evening walk, with the soft-eyedsister of Hillel and Madame Nassim Farhi; a group of women that thedrawing-rooms of Europe and the harems of Asia could perhaps not haverivalled. 

'The Mesdemoiselles Laurella are very accomplished, ' said Tancred, 'but at Damascus I am not content to hear anything but sackbuts andpsalteries. '

'But in Europe your finest music is on the subjects of our history, 'said Eva. 

'Naturally, ' said Tancred, 'music alone can do justice to such themes. They baffle the uninspired pen. '

'There is a prayer which the Mesdemoiselles Laurella once sang, a prayerof Moses in Egypt, ' said Madame Nassim, somewhat timidly. 'It is veryfine. '

'I wish they would favour us with it, ' said Eva; 'I will ask Hillel torequest that kindness;' and she beckoned to Hillel, who sauntered towardher, and listened to her whispered wish with a smile of superciliouscomplacency. 

'At present they are going to favour us with Don Pasquale, ' he said, shrugging his shoulders. 'A prayer is a very fine thing, but for mypart, at this hour, I think a serenade is not so bad. '

'And how do you like my father?' said Eva to Tancred in a hesitatingtone, and yet with a glance of blended curiosity and pride. 

'He is exactly what Sidonia prepared me for; worthy not only of beingyour father, but the father of mankind. '

'The Moslemin say that we are near paradise at Damascus, ' said MadameNassim, 'and that Adam was fashioned out of our red earth. '

'He much wished to see you, ' said Eva, 'and your meeting is asunexpected as to him it is agreeable. '

'We ought to have met long before, ' said Tancred. 'When I first arrivedat Jerusalem, I ought to have hastened to his threshold. The fault andthe misfortune were mine. I scarcely deserved the happiness of knowingyou. '

'I am happy we have all met, and that you now understand us a little. When you go back to England, you will defend us when we are defamed? Youwill not let them persecute us, as they did a few years back, becausethey said we crucified their children at the feast of our passover?'

'I shall not go back to England, ' said Tancred, colouring; 'and if youare persecuted, I hope I shall be able to defend you here. '

The glowing sky, the soft mellow atmosphere, the brilliant surroundings, and the flowers and flashing gems, rich dresses and ravishing music, andevery form of splendour and luxury, combined to create a scene that toTancred was startling, as well from its beauty as its novel character. A rich note of Thérèse Laurella for an instant arrested theirconversation. They were silent while it lingered on their ear. ThenTancred said to the soft-eyed sister of Hillel, 'All that we requirehere to complete the spell are your beautiful children. '

'They sleep, ' said the lady, 'and lose little by not being present, for, like the Queen of Sheba, I doubt not they are dreaming of music andflowers. '

'They say that the children of our race are the most beautiful in theworld, ' said Eva, 'but that when they grow up, they do not fulfil thepromise of their infancy. '

'That were scarcely possible, ' said the soft-eyed mother. 

'It is the sense of shame that comes on them and dims their lustre, 'said Eva. 'Instead of joyous-ness and frank hilarity, anxiety and ashrinking reserve are soon impressed upon the youthful Hebrew visage. It is the seal of ignominy. The dreadful secret that they are anexpatriated and persecuted race is soon revealed to them, at leastamong the humbler classes. The children of our house are bred in noblethoughts, and taught self-respect. Their countenances will not change. '

And the countenance from whose beautiful mouth issued those gallantwords, what of that? It was one that might wilder the wisest. Tancredgazed upon it with serious yet fond abstraction. All heavenly and heroicthoughts gathered around the image of this woman. From the first momentof their meeting at Bethany to this hour of sacred festival, all thepassages of his life in which she had been present flashed throughhis mind. For a moment he was in the ruins of the Arabian desert, andrecalled her glance of sweet solicitude, when, recovered by her skilland her devotion, he recognised the fair stranger whose words had, erethat, touched the recesses of his spirit, and attuned his mind to highand holiest mysteries. Now again their eyes met; an ineffable expressionsuffused the countenance of Lord Monta-cute. He sighed. 

At this moment Hillel and Fakredeen advanced with a hurried air ofgaiety. Hillel offered his hand to Eva with jaunty grace, exclaimingat the same time, 'Ladies, if you like to follow us, you shall see acasket just arrived from Marseilles, and which Eva will favour me bycarrying to Aleppo. It was chosen for me by the Lady of the AustrianInternuncio, who is now at Paris. For my part, I do not see muchadvantage in the diplomatic corps, if occasionally they do not execute acommission for one. '

Hillel hurried Eva away, accompanied by his sister and Madame Nassim. Tancred and Fakredeen remained behind. 

'Who is this man?' said Tancred. 

''Tis her affianced, ' said the Emir; 'the man who has robbed me of mynatural bride. It is to be hoped, however, that, when she is married, Besso will adopt me as his son, which in a certain sense I am, havingbeen fostered by his wife. If he do not leave me his fortune, he oughtat least to take up all my bills in Syria. Don't you think so, myTancred?'

'What?' said Tancred, with a dreamy look. 

There was a burst of laughter in the distance. 

'Come, come, ' said Fakredeen, 'see how they are all gathering round themarriage casket. Even Nassim Farhi has risen. I must go and talk to him:he has impulses, that man, at least compared with his brother; Mourad isa stone, a precious stone though, and you cannot magnetise him throughhis wife, for she has not an idea; but Madame Nassim is immenselymesmeric. Come, come, Tancred. '

'I follow. '

But instead of following his friend, Tancred entered one of the marblepavilions that jutted out from each corner of the terraced roof, andcommanded splendid views of the glittering and gardened city. The moonhad risen over that unrivalled landscape; the white minarets sparkled inits beam, and the vast hoods of the cupolaed mosques were suffused withits radiancy or reposed in dark shadow, almost as black as the cypressgroves out of which they rose. In the extreme distance, beyond thefertile plain, was the desert, bright as the line of the sea, whileotherwise around him extended the chains of Lebanon and of the North. 

The countenance of Tancred was more than serious, it was sad, as, leaning against one of the wreathed marble pillars, he sighed andmurmured: 'If I were thou, most beautiful Damascus, Aleppo should notrob me of such a gem! But I must tear up these thoughts from my heart bytheir roots, and remember that I am ordained for other deeds. '

CHAPTER XLIX. 

 _A Discussion About Scammony_

AFTER taking the bath on his arrival at Damascus, having his beardarranged by a barber of distinction, and dressing himself in a freshwhite suit, as was his custom when in residence, with his turban of thesame colour arranged a little aside, for Baroni was scrupulous as to hisappearance, he hired a donkey and made his way to the great bazaar. The part of the city through which he proceeded was very crowded andbustling: narrow streets, with mats slung across, to shield from the sunthe swarming population beneath. His accustomed step was familiarwith every winding of the emporium of the city; he threaded withouthesitation the complicated mazes of those interminable arcades. Now hewas in the street of the armourers, now among the sellers of shawls;the prints of Manchester were here unfolded, there the silks of India;sometimes he sauntered by a range of shops gay with yellow papooshes andscarlet slippers, and then hurried by the stalls and shelves stored withthe fatal frippery of the East, in which it is said the plague insome shape or other always lurks and lingers. This locality, however, indicated that Baroni was already approaching the purlieus of the chiefplaces; the great population had already much diminished, the brilliancyof the scene much dimmed; there was no longer the swarm of itineranttraders who live by promptly satisfying the wants of the visitors to thebazaar in the shape of a pipe or an ice, a cup of sherbet or of coffee, or a basket of delicious fruit. The passengers were few, and all seemedbusy: some Armenians, a Hebrew physician and his page, the glidingphantoms of some winding-sheets, which were in fact women. 

Baroni turned into an arcade, well built, spacious, airy, and veryneatly fitted up. This was the bazaar of the dealers in drugs. Here, too, spices are sold, all sorts of dye-woods, and especially the choicegums for which Arabia is still celebrated, and which Syria would fainrival by the aromatic juices of her pistachio and her apricot trees. 

Seated on what may be called his counter, smoking a nargileh, in amulberry-coloured robe bordered with fur, and a dark turban, was amiddle-aged man of sinister countenance and air, a long hook nose and alight blue eye. 

'Welcome, Effendi, ' he said, when he observed Baroni; 'many welcomes!And how long have you been at Esh Sham?'

'Not too long, ' said Baroni; 'and have you been here since my lastvisit?'

'Here and there, ' said the man, offering him his pipe. 

'And how are our friends in the mountains?' said Baroni, touching thetube with his lips and returning it. 

'They live, ' said the man. 

'That's something, ' said Baroni. 

'Have you been in the land of the Franks?' said the man. 

'I am always in the land of the Franks, ' said Baroni, 'and about. '

'You don't know any one who wants a parcel of scammony?' said the man. 

'I don't know that I don't, ' said Baroni, mysteriously. 

'I have a very fine parcel, ' said the man; 'it is very scarce. '

'No starch or myrrh in it?' asked Baroni. 

'Do you think I am a Jew?' said the man. 

'I never could make out what you were, friend Darkush; but as forscammony, I could throw a good deal of business in your way at thismoment, to say nothing of galls and tragacanth. '

'As for tragacanth, ' said Darkush, 'it is known that no one in Esh Shamhas pure tragacanth except me; as for galls, every foundling in Syriathinks he can deal in afis, but is it afis of Moussoul, Effendi?'

'What you say are the words of truth, good Darkush; I could recommendyou with a safe conscience. I dreamt last night that there would manypiastres pass between us this visit. '

'What is the use of friends unless they help you in the hour ofadversity?' exclaimed Darkush. 

'You speak ever the words of truth. I am myself in a valley of darkshadows. I am travelling with a young English capitani, a prince of manytails, and he has declared that he will entirely extinguish my existenceunless he pays a visit to the Queen of the Ansarey. '

'Let him first pay a visit to King Soliman in the cities of the Gin, 'said Darkush, doggedly. 

'I am not sure that he will not, some time or other, ' replied Baroni, 'for he is a man who will not take nay. But now let us talk ofscammony, ' he added, vaulting on the counter, and seating himself bythe side of Darkush; 'one might get more by arranging this visit to yourmountains than by enjoying an appalto of all its gums, friend Darkush;but if it cannot be, it cannot be. '

'It cannot be. '

'Let us talk, then, of scammony. You remember my old master, Darkush?'

'There are many things that are forgotten, but he is not one. '

'This capitani with whom I travel, this prince of many tails, is hisfriend. If you serve me now, you serve also him who served you. '

'There are things that can be done, and there are things that cannot bedone. '

'Let us talk, then, of scammony. But fifteen years ago, when we firstmet, friend Darkush, you did not say nay to M. De Sidonia. It was theplague alone that stopped us. '

'The snow on the mountain is not the same snow as fifteen years ago, Effendi. All things change!'

'Let us talk, then, of scammony. The Ansarey have friends in otherlands, but if they will not listen to them, many kind words will belost. Things also might happen which would make everybody's shadowlonger, but if there be no sun, their shadows cannot be seen. '

Darkush shrugged his shoulders. 

'If the sun of friendship does not illumine me, ' resumed Baroni, 'Iam entirely lost in the bottomless vale. Truly, I would give a thousandpiastres if I could save my head by taking the capitani to yourmountains. '

'The princes of Franguestan cannot take off heads, ' observed Darkush. 'All they can do is to banish you to islands inhabited by demons. '

'But the capitani of whom I speak is prince of many tails, is thebrother of queens. Even the great Queen of the English, they say, is hissister. '

'He who serves queens may expect backsheesh. '

'And you serve a queen, Darkush?'

'Which is the reason I cannot give you a pass for the mountains, as Iwould have done, fifteen years ago, in the time of her father. '

'Are her commands, then, so strict?'

'That she should see neither Moslem nor Christian. She is at war withboth, and will be for ever, for the quarrel between them is beyond thepower of man to remove. '

'And what may it be?'

'That you can learn only in the mountains of the Ansarey, ' said Darkush, with a malignant smile. 

Baroni fell into a musing mood. After a few moments' thought, helooked up, and said: 'What you have told me, friend Darkush, is veryinteresting, and throws light on many things. This young prince, whom Iserve, is a friend to your race, and knows well why you are at war bothwith Moslem and Christian, for he is so himself. But he is a man sparingof words, dark in thought, and terrible to deal with. Why he wishes tovisit your people I dared not inquire, but now I guess, from what youhave let fall, that he is an Ansarey himself. He has come from a farland merely to visit his race, a man who is a prince among the people, to whom piastres are as water. I doubt not he has much to say to yourQueen: things might have happened that would have lengthened all ourshadows; but never mind, what cannot be, cannot be: let us talk, then, of scammony. '

'You think he is one?' said Darkush, in a lower tone, and looking veryinquiringly. 

'I do, ' said Baroni. 

'And what do you mean by one?' said Darkush. 

'That is exactly the secret which I never could penetrate. '

'I cannot give a pass to the mountains, ' said Darkush, 'but the sympathyof friends is a river flowing in a fair garden. If this prince, whosewords and thoughts are dark, should indeed be one---- Could I see him, Effendi?'

'It is a subject on which I dare not speak to him, ' said Baroni. 'Ihinted at his coming here: his brow was the brow of Eblis, his eyeflashed like the red lightning of the Kamsin: it is impossible! Whatcannot be done, cannot be done. He must return to the land of hisfathers, unseen by your Queen, of whom he is perhaps a brother; he willlive, hating alike Moslem and Christian, but he will banish me for everto islands of many demons. '

'The Queen shall know of these strange things, ' said Darkush, 'and wewill wait for her words. '

'Wait for the Mecca caravan!' exclaimed Baroni. 'You know not the childof storms, who is my master, and that is ever a reason why I thinkhe must be one of you. For had he been softened by Christianity orcivilised by the Koran----'

'Unripe figs for your Christianity and your Koran!' exclaimed Darkush. 'Do you know what we think of your Christianity and your Koran?'

'No, ' said Baroni, quietly. 'Tell me. '

'You will learn in our mountains, ' said Darkush. 

'Then you mean to let me go there?'

'If the Queen permit you, ' said Darkush. 

'It is three hundred miles to your country, if it be an hour's journey, 'said Baroni. 'What with sending the message and receiving the answer, tosay nothing of the delays which must occur with a woman and a queen inthe case, the fountains of Esh Sham will have run dry before we hearthat our advance is forbidden. '

Darkush shook his head, and yet smiled. 

'By the sunset of to-morrow, Effendi, I could say, ay or nay. Tell mewhat scammony you want, and it shall be done. '

'Write down in your tablets how much you can let me have, ' said Baroni, 'and I will pay you for it to-morrow. As for the goods themselves, youmay keep them for me, until I ask you for them; perhaps the next time Itravel with a capitani who is one of yourselves. '

Darkush threw aside the tube of his nargileh, and, putting his hand verygently into the breast of his robe, he drew out a pigeon, dove-coloured, but with large bright black eyes. The pigeon seemed very knowing andvery proud, as he rested on his master's two fingers. 

'Hah, hah! my Karaguus, my black-eyes, ' exclaimed Darkush. 'What, is hegoing on a little journey to somebody! Yes, we can trust Karaguus, forhe is one of us. Effendi, to-morrow at sunset, at your khan, for thebazaar will be closed, you shall hear from me. '

CHAPTER L. 

 _The Mysterious Mountains_

AT THE black gorge of a mountain pass sat, like sentries, two horsemen. Their dress was that of the Kurds: white turbans, a black shirt girtwith cords, on their backs a long lance, by their sides a crooked sword, and in their girdles a brace of pistols. 

Before them extended a wide, but mountainous landscape: after the smalland very rugged plain on the brink of which they were posted, many hillyridges, finally a lofty range. The general character of the scene wassevere and savage; the contiguous rocks were black and riven, thehills barren and stony, the granite peaks of the more eminent heightsuncovered, except occasionally by the snow. Yet, notwithstandingthe general aridity of its appearance, the country itself wasnot unfruitful. The concealed vegetation of the valleys was notinconsiderable, and was highly cherished; the less precipitous cliffs, too, were cut into terraces, and covered with artificial soil. Thenumerous villages intimated that the country was well populated. Theinhabitants produced sufficient wine and corn for their own use, wereclothed in garments woven by themselves, and possessed some commandover the products of other countries by the gums, the bees'-wax, and thegoats' wool which they could offer in exchange. 

'I have seen two eagles over Gibel Kiflis twice this morning, ' said oneof the horsemen to his companion. 'What does that portend?'

'A good backsheesh for our Queen, comrade. If these children ofFranguestan can pay a princess's dower to visit some columns in thedesert, like Tadmor, they may well give us the golden keys of theirtreasury when they enter where none should go but those who are----'

'But they say that this Frank is one. '

'It has never been known that there were any among the Franks, ' repliedhis comrade, shaking his head. 'The Franks are all Nazareny, and, beforethey were Nazareny, they were savages, and lived in caves. '

'But Keferinis has given the word that all are to guard over thestrangers as over the Queen herself, and that one is a prince, who isunquestionably one of us. '

'My father had counted a hundred and ten years when he left us, Azaz, and he had twenty-four children, and when he was at the point of deathhe told us two things: one was, never to forget what we were; and theother, that never in his time had one like us ever visited our country. '

'Eagles again fly over Gibel Kiflis: methinks the strangers must be athand. '

'May their visit lead to no evil to them or to us!'

'Have you misgivings?'

'We are alone among men: let us remain so. '

'You are right. I was once at Haleb (Aleppo); I will never willinglyfind myself there again. '

'Give me the mountains, the mountains of our fathers, and the beautifulthings that can be seen only by one of us!'

'They are not to be found in the bazaars of Haleb; in the gardens ofDamascus they are not to be sought. '

'Oh! who is like the Queen who reigns over us? I know to whom she is tobe compared, but I will not say; yet you too know, my brother in arms. '

'Yes; there are things which are not known in the bazaars of Haleb; inthe gardens of Damascus they are not to be sought. '

Karaguus, the black-eyed pigeon, brought tidings to the Queen of theAnsarey, from her agent Darkush, that two young princes, one a Syrian, the other a Frank, wished to enter her territories to confer with heron grave matters, and that he had reason to believe that one of theprinces, the Frank, strange, incredible as it might sound, was one ofthemselves. On the evening of the next day, very weary, came Ruby-lips, the brother of Black-eyes, with the reply of her Majesty, orderingDarkush to grant the solicited pass, but limiting the permission ofentrance into her dominions to the two princes and two attendants. Asone of these, Baroni figured. They did not travel very rapidly. Tancredwas glad to seize the occasion to visit Hameh and Aleppo on his journey. 

It was after quitting the latter city, and crossing the riverKoweik, that they approached the region which was the object of theirexpedition. What certainly did not contribute to render their progressless difficult and dangerous was the circumstance that war at thismoment was waged between the Queen of the Ansarey and the Pasha ofAleppo. The Turkish potentate had levied tribute on some villages whichowned her sway, and which, as he maintained, were not included in theancient composition paid by the Ansarey to the Porte in full of alldemands. The consequence was, that parties of the Ansarey occasionallyissued from their passes and scoured the plain of Aleppo. There was alsoan understanding between the Ansarey and the Kurds, that, whenever anyquarrel occurred between the mountaineers and the Turks, the Kurds, whoresembled the inhabitants of the mountain in their general appearance, should, under the title of Ansarey, take this opportunity of ravage. Darkush, however, had given Baroni credentials to the secret agent ofthe Ansarey at Aleppo; and, with his instructions and assistance, the difficulties, which otherwise might have been insuperable, wereovercome; and thus it was that the sentries stationed at the mouth ofthe black ravine, which led to the fortress palace of the Queen, werenow hourly expecting the appearance of the princes. 

A horseman at full gallop issued from the hills, and came boundingover the stony plain; he shouted to the sentries as he passed them, announcing the arrival of the strangers, and continued his pace throughthe defile. Soon afterwards appeared the cavalcade of the princes;themselves, their two attendants, and a party of horsemen with whiteturbans and long lances. 

Tancred and Fakredeen rode horses of a high race. But great as is thepleasure of being well mounted, it was not that circumstance alone whichlit up their eyes with even unwonted fire, and tinged their cheekswith a triumphant glow. Their expedition had been delightful; full ofadventure, novelty, and suspense. They had encountered difficulties andthey had overcome them. They had a great purpose, they were on the eveof a stirring incident. They were young, daring, and brilliant. 

'A strong position, ' said Tancred, as they entered the defile. 

'O! my Tancred, what things we have seen together!' exclaimedFakredeen. 'And what is to follow?'

The defile was not long, and it was almost unbending. It terminated ina table-land of very limited extent, bounded by a rocky chain, on one ofthe front and more moderate elevations of which was the appearance of anextensive fortification; though, as the travellers approached it, theyperceived that, in many instances, art had only availed itself of thenatural advantages of the position, and that the towers and turrets werecarved out of the living rock which formed the impregnable bulwarks andescarpments. 

The cavalcade, at a quick pace, soon gained the ascending and windingroad that conducted them to a tall and massy gateway, the top of whichwas formed of one prodigious stone. The iron portal opening displayed acovered way cut out of the rock, and broad enough to permit the entranceof two horsemen abreast. This way was of considerable length, and sodark that they were obliged to be preceded by torch-bearers. Thence theyissued into a large courtyard, the sunshine of which was startling andalmost painful, after their late passage. The court was surrounded bybuildings of different styles and proportions; the further end, and, asit were, centre of the whole, being a broad, square, and stunted bricktower, immediately behind which rose the granite peaks of the mountains. 

There were some horsemen in the court, and many attendants on foot, whocame forward and assisted the guests to alight. Tancred and Fakredeendid not speak, but exchanged glances which expressed their secretthoughts. Perhaps they were of the same opinion as Baroni, that, difficult as it was to arrive there, it might not be more easy toreturn. However, God is great! a consolatory truth that had sustainedBaroni under many trials. 

They were ushered into a pavilion at the side of the court, and thenceinto a commodious divan, which opened upon another and smaller court, inwhich were some acacia trees. As usual, pipes and coffee were brought. Baroni was outside, with the other attendant, stowing away the luggage. A man plainly but neatly dressed, slender and wrinkled, with a stoopinggait but a glittering eye, came into the chamber, and, in a hushedvoice, with many smiles, much humility, but the lurking air of a master, welcomed them to Gindarics. Then, seating himself on the divan, heclapped his hands, and an attendant brought him his nargileh. 

'I presume, ' said Tancred, 'that the Emir and myself have the honour ofconversing with the Lord Keferinis. ' Thus he addressed this celebratedeunuch, who is prime minister of the Queen of the Ansarey. 

'The Prince of England, ' replied Keferinis, bowing, and speaking in avery affected voice, and in a very affected manner, 'must not expectthe luxuries of the world amid these mountains. Born in London, whichis surrounded by the sea, and with an immense slave population at yourcommand, you have advantages with which the Ansarey cannot compete, unjustly deprived, as they have been, of their port; and unable, inthe present diminished supply of the markets, to purchase slaves asheretofore from the Turkmans and the Kurds. '

'I suppose the Russians interfere with your markets?' said Fakredeen. 

'The noble Emir of the Lebanon has expressed himself with infiniteexactitude, ' said Keferinis. 'The Russians now entirely stock theirharems from the north of Asia. '

'The Lord Keferinis has been a great traveller, I apprehend?' saidTancred. 

'The Prince of England has expressed himself with extreme exactitude, and with flattering grace, ' replied Keferinis. 'I have indeed visitedall the Syrian cities, except Jerusalem, which no one wishes to see, andwhich, ' he added, in a sweet calm tone, 'is unquestionably a place fitonly for hogs. '

Tancred started, but repressed himself. 

'Have you been in Lebanon?' asked Fakredeen. 

'Noble Emir, I have been the guest of princes of your illustrious house. Conversations have passed between me and the Emir Bescheer, ' he added, with a significant look. 'Perhaps, had events happened which did notoccur, the great Emir Bescheer might not at this moment have been aprisoner at Stamboul, among those who, with infinite exactitude, may bedescribed as the most obscene sons of very intolerable barbarians. '

'And why did not you and the Emir Bescheer agree?' inquired Fakredeen, eagerly. 'Why has there never been a right understanding between yourpeople and the House of Shehaab? United, we should not only commandSyria, but we might do more: we might control Asia itself!'

'The noble Emir has expressed himself with inexpressible grace. Thepower of the Ansarey cannot be too highly estimated!'

'Is it true that your sovereign can bring five and twenty thousand meninto the field?' asked Tancred. 

'Five and twenty thousand men, ' replied Keferinis, with insinuatingcourtesy, 'each of whom could beat nine Maronites, and consequentlythree Druses. '

'Five and twenty thousand figs for your five and twenty thousand men!'exclaimed Fakredeen laughing. 

At this moment entered four pages and four maidens bringing sweetmeatsfrom the Queen, and goblets of iced water. They bowed; Keferinisindicated their purpose, and when they had fulfilled their officethey disappeared; but the seasonable interruption had turned theconversation, and prevented Fakredeen making a sharp retort. Now theytalked of the Queen, who, Keferinis said, would be graciously pleasednot to see them to-day, and might not even see them for a week, whichagreeable intelligence was communicated in the most affable manner, asif it were good news, or a compliment at least. 

'The name of the Queen's father was Suedia, ' said Fakredeen. 

'The name of the Queen's father was Suedia, ' replied Keferinis. 

'And the name of the Queen's mother----'

'Is of no consequence, ' observed Keferinis, 'for she was a slave, andnot one of us, and therefore may with singular exactitude be describedas nothing. '

'Is she the first Queen who has reigned over the Ansarey?' inquiredTancred. 

'The first since we have settled in these mountains, ' replied Keferinis. 

'And where were you settled before?' inquired Fakredeen. 

'Truly, ' replied Keferinis, 'in cities which never can be forgotten, andtherefore need never be mentioned. '

Tancred and Fakredeen were very desirous of learning the name of theQueen, but were too well-bred directly to make the inquiry of Keferinis. They had endeavoured to obtain the information as they travelled along, but although every Ansarey most obligingly answered their inquiry, theyinvariably found, on comparing notes, that every time they were favouredwith a different piece of information. At last, Baroni informed themthat it was useless to pursue their researches, as he was, from variousreasons, convinced that no Ansarey was permitted to give any informationof his country, race, government, or creed, although he was fartoo civil ever to refuse an apparently satisfactory answer to everyquestion. As for Keferinis, although he was very conversable, thecompanions observed that he always made it a rule to dilate uponsubjects and countries with which he had no acquaintance, andhe expressed himself in so affected a manner, and with such anamplification of useless phraseology, that, though he was alwaystalking, they seemed at the end of the day to be little more acquaintedwith the Ansarey and their sovereign than when Baroni first opened thesubject of their visit to Darkush at Damascus. 

CHAPTER LI. 

 _Queen of the Ansarey_

AWAY, away, Cypros! I can remain no more; my heart beats so. ' 'Sweetlady, ' replied Cypros, 'it is surprise that agitates you. ' 'Is itsurprise, Cypros? I did not know it was surprise. Then I never wassurprised before. '

'I think they were surprised, sweet lady, ' said Cypros, smiling. 

'Hush, you are laughing very loud, my Cypros. ' 'Is that laughter, sweetlady? I did not know it was laughter. Then I never laughed before. '

'I would they should know nothing either of our smiles or of our sighs, my Cypros. '

She who said this was a girl of eighteen summers; her features veryGreek, her complexion radiant, hair dark as night, and eyes of thecolour of the violet. Her beautiful countenance, however, was at thismoment nearly shrouded by her veil, although no one could possiblybehold it, excepting her attendant, younger even than herself, and freshand fair as a flower. 

They were hurrying along a wooden gallery, which led, behind the upperpart of the divan occupied by the travellers, to the great squarecentral tower of the quadrangle, which we have already noticed, and asthe truth must always, or at least eventually, come out, it shall notbe concealed that, availing themselves of a convenient, perhapsirresistible position, the fair fugitives had peeped into the chamber, and had made even minute observations on its inhabitants with impunity. Suddenly, Fakredeen rising from his seat, a panic had seized them andthey hurried away. 

The gallery led to a flight of steps, and the flight of steps intothe first of several chambers without decoration, and with no otherfurniture than an Eastern apartment always offers, the cushioned seat, which surrounds at least two-thirds of the room. At length they entereda small alcove, rudely painted in arabesque, but in a classic Ionicpattern; the alcove opened into a garden, or rather court of myrtleswith a fountain. An antelope, an Angora cat, two Persian greyhounds, were basking on the sunny turf, and there were many birds about, in rudebut capacious cages. 

'We are safe, ' said the lady, dropping on the divan; 'I think we musthave been seen. '

'That was clearly impossible, ' said Cypros. 

'Well, we must be seen at last, ' said the lady. 'Heigho! I never shallbe able to receive them, if my heart beat so. '

'I would let them wait a few days, sweet lady, ' said Cypros, 'and thenyou would get more used to them. '

'I shall never be more used to them. Besides, it is rude andinhospitable not to see them. Yesterday there was an excuse: they werewearied, or I had a right to suppose they were, with their travelling;and to-day, there ought to be an excuse for not receiving them to-day. What is it, Cypros?'

'I dare say they will be quite content, if to-day you fix the time whenyou will receive them, sweet lady. '

'But I shall not be content, Cypros. Having seen them once, I wish tosee them again, and one cannot always be walking by accident in thegallery. '

'Then I would see them to-day, sweet lady. Shall I send for the nobleKeferinis?'

'I wish I were Cypros, and you were---- Hark! what is that?'

''Tis only the antelope, sweet lady. '

'I thought it was---- Now tell me, my Cypros, which of these two princesdo you think is he who is one of us?'

'Oh, really, sweet lady, I think they are both so handsome!'

'Yet so unlike, ' said the lady. 

'Well, they are unlike, ' said Cypros, 'and yet----'

'And what?'

'The fair one has a complexion almost as radiant as your own, sweetlady. '

'And eyes as blue: no, they are too light. And so, as there is alikeness, you think he is the one?'

'I am sure I wish they were both belonging to us, ' said Cypros. 

'Ah, me!' said the lady, ''tis not the bright-faced prince whom Ihold to be one of us. No, no, my Cypros. Think awhile, sweet girl. Thevisage, the head of the other, have you not seen them before? Haveyou not seen something like them? That head so proudly placed upon theshoulders; that hair, that hyacinthine hair, that lofty forehead, thatproud lip, that face so refined and yet so haughty, does it not recallanything? Think, Cypros; think!'

'It does, sweet lady. '

'Tell me; whisper it to me; it is a name not to be lightly mentioned. '

Cypros advanced, and bending her head, breathed a word in the ear ofthe lady, who instantly, blushing deeply, murmured with a faint smile, 'Yes. '

'It is he, then, ' said Cypros, 'who is one of us. '

CHAPTER LII. 

 _A Royal Audience_

OUR travellers were speculating, not very sanguinely, on the possibleresources which Gindarics might supply for the amusement of a week, when, to their great relief, they were informed by Keferinis, that theQueen had fixed noon, on this the day after their arrival, to receivethem. And accordingly at that time some attendants, not accompanying, however, the chief minister, waited on Tancred and Fakredeen, andannounced that they were commanded to usher them to the royal presence. Quitting their apartments, they mounted a flight of steps, which ledto the wooden gallery, along which they pursued their course. At itstermination were two sentries with their lances. Then they descendeda corresponding flight of stairs and entered a chamber where they werereceived by pages; the next room, of larger size, was crowded, andhere they remained for a few minutes. Then they were ushered into thepresence. 

The young Queen of the Ansarey could not have received them with an airmore impassive had she been holding a levée at St. James'. Seated on herdivan, she was clothed in a purple robe; her long dark hair descendedover her shoulders, and was drawn off her white forehead, which wasbound with a broad circlet of pure gold, and of great antiquity. Onher right hand stood Keferinis, the captain of her guard, and apriestly-looking person with a long white beard, and then at somedistance from these three personages, a considerable number ofindividuals, between whose appearance and that of her ordinary subjectsthere was little difference. On her left hand were immediately threefemale attendants, young and pretty; at some distance from them, a troopof female slaves; and again, at a still further distance, another bodyof her subjects in their white turbans and their black dresses. Thechamber was spacious, and rudely painted in the Ionic style. 

'It is most undoubtedly requested, and in a vein of the mostcondescending friendship, by the perfectly irresistible Queen, thatthe princes should be seated, ' said Keferinis, and accordingly Tancredoccupied his allotted seat on the right of the Queen, though at somedistance, and the young Emir filled his on the left. Fakredeen wasdressed in Syrian splendour, a blaze of shawls and jewelled arms; butTancred retained on this, as he had done on every other occasion, theEuropean dress, though in the present instance it assumed a somewhatmore brilliant shape than ordinary, in the dark green regimentals, the rich embroidery, and the flowing plume of the Bellamont yeomanrycavalry. 

'You are a prince of the English, ' said the Queen to Tancred. 

'I am an Englishman, ' he replied, 'and a subject of our Queen, for wealso have the good fortune to be ruled over by the young and the fair. '

'My fathers and the House of Shehaab have been ever friends, ' shecontinued, turning to Fakredeen. 

'May they ever continue so!' he replied. 'For if the Shehaabs and theAnsarey are of one mind, Syria is no longer earth, but indeed paradise. '

'You live much in ships?' said the Queen, turning to Tancred. 

'We are an insular people, ' he answered, somewhat confusedly, but theperfectly-informed Keferinis came to the succour both of Tancred and ofhis sovereign. 

'The English live in ships only during six months of the year, principally when they go to India, the rest entirely at their countryhouses. '

'Ships are required to take you to India?' said her Majesty. 

Tancred bowed assent. 

'Is your Queen about my age?'

'She was as young as your Majesty when she began to reign. '

'And how long has she reigned?'

'Some seven years or so. '

'Has she a castle?'

'Her Majesty generally resides in a very famous castle. '

'Very strong, I suppose?'

'Strong enough. '

'The Emir Bescheer remains at Stamboul?'

'He is now, I believe, at Brusa, ' replied Fakredeen. 

'Does he like Brusa?'

'Not as much at Stamboul. '

'Is Stamboul the largest city in the world?'

'I apprehend by no means, ' said Fakredeen. 

'What is larger?'

'London is larger, the great city of the English, from which the princecomes; Paris is also larger, but not so large as London. '

'How many persons are there in Stamboul?'

'More than half a million. '

'Have you seen Antakia (Antioch)?' the Queen inquired of Tancred. 

'Not yet. '

'You have seen Beiroot?'

'I have. '

'Antakia is not nearly so great a place as Beiroot, ' said the Queen;'yet once Antakia was much larger than Stamboul; as large, perhaps, asyour great city. '

'And far more beautiful than either, ' said Tancred. 

'Ah! you have heard of these things!' exclaimed the Queen, with muchanimation. 'Now tell me, why is Antakia no longer a great city, as greatas Stamboul and the city of the English, and far more beautiful?'

'It is a question that might perplex the wise, ' said Tancred. 

'I am not wise, ' said the Queen, looking earnestly at Tancred, 'yet Icould solve it. '

'Would that your Majesty would deign to do so. '

'There are things to be said, and there are things not to be said, ' wasthe reply, and the Queen looked at Keferinis. 

'Her Majesty has expressed herself with infinite exactitude and withcondescending propriety, ' said the chief minister. 

The Queen was silent for a moment, thoughtful, and then waved gracefullyher hands; whereupon the chamber was immediately cleared. The princes, instructed by Keferinis, alone remained, with the exception of theminister, who, at the desire of his sovereign, now seated himself, butnot on the divan. He sat opposite to the Queen on the floor. 

'Princes, ' said the Queen, 'you are welcome to Gindarics, where nobodyever comes. For we are people who wish neither to see nor to be seen. Weare not like other people, nor do we envy other people. I wish not forthe ships of the Queen of the English, and my subjects are content tolive as their fathers lived before them. Our mountains are wild andbarren; our vales require for their cultivation unceasing toil. We haveno gold or silver, no jewels; neither have we silk. But we have somebeautiful and consoling thoughts, and more than thoughts, which areshared by all of us and open to all of us, and which only we can valueor comprehend. When Darkush, who dwells at Damascus, and was the servantof my father, sent to us the ever-faithful messenger, and said thatthere were princes who wished to confer with us, he knew well it wasvain to send here men who would talk of the English and the Egyptians, of the Porte and of the nations of Fran-guestan. These things to us arelike the rind of fruit. Neither do we care for cottons, nor for thingswhich are sought for in the cities of the plains, and it may be, nobleEmir, cherished also in the mountains of Lebanon. This is not Lebanon, but the mountains of the Ansarey, who are as they have ever been, beforethe name of Turk or English was known in Syria, and who will remain asthey are, unless that happens which may never happen, but which istoo beautiful not to believe may arrive. Therefore I speak to you withfrankness, princes of strange countries: Dar-kush, the servant of myfather, and also mine, told me, by the ever-faithful messenger, that itwas not of these things, which are to us like water spilt on sand, thatyou wished to confer, but that there were things to be said which oughtto be uttered. Therefore it is I sent back the faithful messenger, saying, "Send then these princes to Gindarics, since their talk is notof things which come and go, making a noise on the coast and in thecities of the plains, and then passing away. " These we infinitelydespise; but the words of truth uttered in the spirit of friendship willlast, if they be grave, and on matters which authorise journeys made byprinces to visit queens. '

Her Majesty ceased, and looked at Keferinis, who bowed profoundapprobation. Tancred and Fakre-deen, also exchanged glances, but theEmir waved his hand, signifying his wish that Tancred should reply, who, after a moment's hesitation, with an air of great deference, thusventured to express himself:

'It seems to me and to my friend, the Prince of the Lebanon, that wehave listened to the words of wisdom. They are in every respect just. We know not, ourselves, Darkush, but he was rightly informed when heapprised your Majesty that it was not upon ordinary topics, eitherpolitical or commercial, that we desired to visit Gindarics. Nor was itout of such curiosity as animates travellers. For we are not travellers, but men who have a purpose which we wish to execute. The world, that, since its creation, has owned the spiritual supremacy of Asia, whichis but natural, since Asia is the only portion of the world which theCreator of that world has deigned to visit, and in which he has everconferred with man, is unhappily losing its faith in those ideas andconvictions that hitherto have governed the human race. We think, therefore, the time has arrived when Asia should make one of itsperiodical and appointed efforts to reassert that supremacy. But thoughwe are acting, as we believe, under a divine impulse, it is our duty toselect the most fitting human agents to accomplish a celestial mission. We have thought, therefore, that it should devolve on Syria and Arabia, countries in which our God has even dwelt, and with which he has beenfrom the earliest days in direct and regular communication, to undertakethe solemn task. Two races of men, alike free, one inhabiting thedesert, the other the mountains, untainted by any of the vices of theplains, and the virgin vigour of their intelligence not dwarfed by theconventional superstitions of towns and cities, one prepared at onceto supply an unrivalled cavalry, the other an army ready equipped ofintrepid foot-soldiers, appear to us to be indicated as the naturaland united conquerors of the world. We wish to conquer that world, withangels at our head, in order that we may establish the happiness of manby a divine dominion, and crushing the political atheism that is nowdesolating existence, utterly extinguish the grovelling tyranny ofself-government. '

The Queen of the Ansarey listened with deep and agitated attention toTancred. When he had concluded, she said, after a moment's pause, 'Ibelieve also in the necessity of the spiritual supremacy of our Asia. And since it has ceased, it seems not to me that man and man's life havebeen either as great or as beautiful as heretofore. What you have saidassures me that it is well that you have come hither. But when you speakof Arabia, of what God is it you speak?'

'I speak of the only God, the Creator of all things, the God who spokeon the Arabian Mount Sinai, and expiated our sins upon the Syrian MountCalvary. '

'There is also Mount Olympus, ' said the Queen, 'which is in Anatolia. Once the gods dwelt there. '--'The gods of poets, ' said Tancred. 'No; thegods of the people; who loved the people, and whom the people loved. '

There was a pause, broken by the Queen, who, looking at her minister, said, 'Noble Keferinis, the thoughts of these princes are divine, and inevery respect becoming celestial things. Is it not well that the gatesof the beautiful and the sacred should not be closed?'

'In every sense, irresistible Queen, it is well that the gates of thebeautiful and the sacred should not be closed. '

'Then let them bring garlands. Princes, ' the Queen continued, 'what theeye of no stranger has looked upon, you shall now behold. This also isAsian and divine. '

Immediately the chamber again filled. The Queen, looking at the twoprinces and bowing, rose from her seat. They instantly followed herexample. One came forward, offering to the Queen, and then to each ofthem, a garland. Garlands were also taken by Keferinis and a few others. Cypros and her companions walked first, then Keferinis and one who hadstood near the royal divan; the Queen, between her two guests, followed, and after her a small and ordered band. 

They stopped before a lofty portal of bronze, evidently of ancient art. 'This opened into a covered and excavated way, in some respects similarto that which had led them directly to the castle of Gin-darics; but, although obscure, not requiring artificial light, yet it was of noinconsiderable length. It emerged upon a platform cut out of the naturalrock; on all sides were steep cliffs, above them the bright blue sky. The ravine appeared to be closed on every side. 

The opposite cliff, at the distance of several hundred yards, reached bya winding path, presented, at first, the appearance of the front of anancient temple; and Tancred, as he approached it, perceived that thehand of art had assisted the development of an imitation of nature: apediment, a deep portico, supported by Ionic columns, and a flight ofsteps, were carved out of the cliff, and led into vast caverns, whichart also had converted into lofty and magnificent chambers. Whenthey had mounted the steps, the Queen and her companions lifted theirgarlands to the skies, and joined in a chorus, solemn and melodious, but which did not sound as the language of Syria. Passing through theportico, Tancred found himself apparently in a vast apartment, where hebeheld a strange spectacle. 

At the first glance it seemed that, ranged on blocks of the surroundingmountains, were a variety of sculptured figures of costly materialsand exquisite beauty; forms of heroic majesty and ideal grace; and, themselves serene and unimpassioned, filling the minds of the beholderswith awe and veneration. It was not until his eye was accustomed to theatmosphere, and his mind had in some degree recovered from the firststrange surprise, that Tancred gradually recognised the fair and famousimages over which his youth had so long and so early pondered. Stoleover his spirit the countenance august, with the flowing beard andthe lordly locks, sublime on his ivory throne, in one hand the readythunderbolt, in the other the cypress sceptre; at his feet the watchfuleagle with expanded wings: stole over the spirit of the gazing pilgrim, each shape of that refined and elegant hierarchy made for the worshipof clear skies and sunny lands; goddess and god, genius and nymph, and faun, all that the wit and heart of man can devise and create, torepresent his genius and his passion, all that the myriad developmentsof a beautiful nature can require for their personification. A beautifuland sometimes flickering light played over the sacred groups andfigures, softening the ravages of time, and occasionally investing themwith, as it were, a celestial movement. 

'The gods of the Greeks!' exclaimed Tancred. 

'The gods of the Ansarey, ' said the Queen; 'the gods of my fathers!'

'I am filled with a sweet amazement, ' murmured Tancred. 'Life isstranger than I deemed. My soul is, as it were, unsphered. '

'Yet you know them to be gods, ' said the Queen; 'and the Emir of theLebanon does not know them to be gods?'

'I feel that they are such, ' said Fakredeen. 

'How is this, then?' said the Queen. 'How is it that you, the child of anorthern isle----'

'Should recognise the Olympian Jove, ' said Tancred. 'It seems strange;but from my earliest youth I learnt these things. '

'Ah, then, ' murmured the Queen to herself, and with an expression of thegreatest satisfaction, 'Dar-kush was rightly informed; he is one of us. '

'I behold then, at last, the gods of the Ansarey, ' said Fakredeen. 

'All that remains of Antioch, noble Emir; of Anti-och the superb, withits hundred towers, and its sacred groves and fanes of flashing beauty. '

'Unhappy Asia!' exclaimed the Emir; 'thou hast indeed fallen!'

'When all was over, ' said the Queen; 'when the people refused tosacrifice, and the gods, indignant, quitted earth, I hope not for ever, the faithful few fled to these mountains with the sacred images, and wehave cherished them. I told you we had beautiful and consoling thoughts, and more than thoughts. All else is lost, our wealth, our arts, ourluxury, our invention, all have vanished. The niggard earth scarcelyyields us a subsistence; we dress like Kurds, feed hardly as well; butif we were to quit these mountains, and wander like them on the plainswith our ample flocks, we should lose our sacred images, all thetraditions that we yet cherish in our souls, that in spite of our hardlives preserve us from being barbarians; a sense of the beautiful andthe lofty, and the divine hope that, when the rapidly consummatingdegradation of Asia has been fulfilled, mankind will return again tothose gods who made the earth beautiful and happy; and that they, intheir celestial mercy, may revisit that world which, without them, hasbecome a howling wilderness. '

'Lady, ' said Tancred, with much emotion, 'we must, with your permission, speak of these things. My heart is at present too full. '

'Come hither, ' said the Queen, in a voice of great softness; and she ledTancred away. 

They entered a chamber of much smaller dimensions, which might be lookedupon as a chapel annexed to the cathedral or Pantheon which they hadquitted. At each end of it was a statue. They paused before one. It wasnot larger than life, of ivory and gold; the colour purer than couldpossibly have been imagined, highly polished, and so little injured, that at a distance the general effect was not in the least impaired. 

'Do you know that?' asked the Queen, as she looked at the statue, andthen she looked at Tancred. 

'I recognise the god of poetry and light, ' said Tancred; 'PhoebusApollo. '

'Our god: the god of Antioch, the god of the sacred grove! Who couldlook upon him, and doubt his deity!'

'Is this indeed the figure, ' murmured Tancred, 'before which a hundredsteers have bled? before which libations of honeyed wine were pouredfrom golden goblets? that lived in a heaven of incense?'

'Ah! you know all. '

'Angels watch over us!' said Tancred, 'or my brain will turn. And who isthis?'

'One before whom the pilgrims of the world once kneeled. This is theSyrian goddess; the Venus of our land, but called among us by a namewhich, by her favour, I also bear, Astarte. '

CHAPTER LIII. 

 _Fakredeen's Plots_

AND when did men cease from worshipping them?' asked Fakredeen ofTancred; 'before the Prophet?' 'When truth descended from Heaven in theperson of Christ Jesus. '

'But truth had descended from Heaven before Jesus, ' replied Fakredeen;'since, as you tell me, God spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai, and sincethen to many of the prophets and the princes of Israel. '

'Of whom Jesus was one, ' said Tancred; 'the descendant of King Davidas well as the Son of God. But through this last and greatest of theirprinces it was ordained that the inspired Hebrew mind should mould andgovern the world. Through Jesus God spoke to the Gentiles, and not tothe tribes of Israel only. That is the great worldly difference betweenJesus and his inspired predecessors. Christianity is Judaism forthe multitude, but still it is Judaism, and its development was thedeath-blow of the Pagan idolatry. '

'Gentiles, ' murmured Fakredeen; 'Gentiles! you are a Gentile, Tancred?'

'Alas! I am, ' he answered, 'sprung from a horde of Baltic pirates, whonever were heard of during the greater annals of the world, a descentwhich I have been educated to believe was the greatest of honours. Whatwe should have become, had not the Syro-Arabian creeds formed our minds, I dare not contemplate. Probably we should have perished in mutualdestruction. However, though rude and modern Gentiles, unknown to theApostles, we also were in time touched with the sacred symbol, andoriginally endowed with an organisation of a high class, for ourancestors wandered from Caucasus; we have become kings and princes. '

'What a droll thing is history, ' said Fakredeen. 'Ah! if I were onlyacquainted with it, my education would be complete. Should you call me aGentile?'

'I have great doubts whether such an appellation could be extended tothe descendants of Ishmael. I always look upon you as a member of thesacred race. It is a great thing for any man; for you it may tend toempire. '

'Was Julius Cæsar a Gentile?'

'Unquestionably. '

'And Iskander?' (Alexander of Macedon. )

'No doubt; the two most illustrious Gentiles that ever existed, andrepresenting the two great races on the shores of the Mediterranean, towhich the apostolic views were first directed. '

'Well, their blood, though Gentile, led to empire, ' said Fakredeen. 

'But what are their conquests to those of Jesus Christ?' said Tancred, with great animation. 'Where are their dynasties? where theirsubjects? They were both deified: who burns incense to them now? Theirdescendants, both Greek and Roman, bow before the altars of the house ofDavid. The house of David is worshipped at Rome itself, at every seat ofgreat and growing empire in the world, at London, at St. Petersburg, at New York. Asia alone is faithless to the Asian; but Asia has beenoverrun by Turks and Tatars. For nearly five hundred years the trueOriental mind has been enthralled. Arabia alone has remained free andfaithful to the divine tradition. From its bosom we shall go forth andsweep away the moulding remnants of the Tataric system; and then, when the East has resumed its indigenous intelligence, when angels andprophets again mingle with humanity, the sacred quarter of the globewill recover its primeval and divine supremacy; it will act upon themodern empires, and the faint-hearted faith of Europe, which is butthe shadow of a shade, will become as vigorous as befits men who are insustained communication with the Creator. '

'But suppose, ' said Fakredeen, in a captious tone that was unusual withhim, 'suppose, when the Tataric system is swept away, Asia reverts tothose beautiful divinities that we beheld this morning?'

More than once, since they quitted the presence of Astarte, hadFakredeen harped upon this idea. From that interview the companionshad returned moody and unusually silent. Strange to say, there seemeda tacit understanding between them to converse little on that subjectwhich mainly engrossed their minds. Their mutual remarks on Astartewere few and constrained; a little more diffused upon the visit to thetemple; but they chiefly kept up the conventional chat of companionshipby rather commonplace observations on Keferinis and other incidents andpersons comparatively of little interest and importance. 

After their audience, they dined with the minister, not exactly inthe manner of Downing Street, nor even with the comparative luxury ofCanobia; but the meal was an incident, and therefore agreeable. A goodpilaff was more acceptable than some partridges dressed with oil andhoney: but all Easterns are temperate, and travel teaches abstinenceto the Franks. Neither Fakredeen nor Tancred were men who criticised ameal: bread, rice, and coffee, a bird or a fish, easily satisfied them. The Emir affected the Moslem when the minister offered him the wine ofthe mountains, which was harsh and rough after the delicious Vino d'Oroof Lebanon; but Tancred contrived to drink the health of Queen Astartewithout any wry expression of countenance. 

'I believe, ' said Keferinis, 'that the English, in their island ofLondon, drink only to women; the other natives of Franguestan chieflypledge men; we look upon both as barbarous. '

'At any rate, you worship the god of wine, ' remarked Tancred, who neverattempted to correct the self-complacent minister. 'I observed to-daythe statue of Bacchus. '

'Bacchus!' said Keferinis, with a smile, half of inquiry, half ofcommiseration. 'Bacchus: an English name, I apprehend! All our godscame from the ancient Antakia before either the Turks or the Englishwere heard of. Their real names are in every respect sacred; nor willthey be uttered, even to the Ansarey, until after the divine initiationhas been performed in the perfectly admirable and inexpressiblydelightful mysteries, ' which meant, in simpler tongue, that Keferiniswas entirely ignorant of the subject on which he was talking. 

After their meal, Keferinis, proposing that in the course of theday they should fly one of the Queen's hawks, left them, when theconversation, of which we have given a snatch, occurred. Yet, as we haveobserved, they were on the whole moody and unusually silent. Fakredeenin particular was wrapped in reverie, and when he spoke, it was alwaysin reference to the singular spectacle of the morning. His musing forcedhim to inquiry, having never before heard of the Olympian heirarchy, norof the woods of Daphne, nor of the bright lord of the silver bow. 

Why were they moody and silent?

With regard to Lord Montacute, the events of the morning mightsufficiently account for the gravity of his demeanour, for he wasnaturally of a thoughtful and brooding temperament. This unexpectedintroduction to Olympus was suggestive of many reflections to one sohabituated to muse over divine influences. Nor need it be denied thatthe character of the Queen greatly interested him. Her mind wasalready attuned to heavenly thoughts. She already believed that shewas fulfilling a sacred mission. Tancred could not be blind to theimportance of such a personage as Astarte in the great drama of divineregeneration, which was constantly present to his consideration. Herconversion might be as weighty as ten victories. He was not insensibleto the efficacy of feminine influence in the dissemination of religioustruth, nor unaware how much the greatest development of the Arabiancreeds, in which the Almighty himself deigned to become a personalactor, was assisted by the sacred spell of woman. It is not the EmpressHélène alone who has rivalled, or rather surpassed, the exploits of themost illustrious apostles. The three great empires of the age, France, England, and Russia, are indebted for their Christianity to female lips. We all remember the salutary influence of Clotilde and Bertha which borethe traditions of the Jordan to the Seine and the Thames: it should notbe forgotten that to the fortunate alliance of Waldimir, the Duke ofMoscovy, with the sister of the Greek Emperor Basil, is to be ascribedthe remarkable circumstance, that the intellectual development of allthe Russias has been conducted on Arabian principles. It was the fairGiselle, worthy successor of the softhearted women of Galilee, herselfthe sister of the Emperor Henry the Second, who opened the mind of herhusband, the King of Hungary, to the deep wisdom of the Hebrews, to thelaws of Moses and the precepts of Jesus. Poland also found an apostleand a queen in the sister of the Duke of Bohemia, and who revealed tothe Sarmatian Micislas the ennobling mysteries of Sinai and of Calvary. 

Sons of Israel, when you recollect that you created Christendom, you maypardon the Christians even their _autos da fè!_

Fakredeen Shehaab, Emir of Canobia, and lineal descendant of thestandard-bearer of the Prophet, had not such faith in Arabian principlesas to dream of converting the Queen of the Ansarey. Quite the reverse;the Queen of the Ansarey had converted him. From the first moment hebeheld Astarte, she had exercised over him that magnetic influenceof which he was peculiarly susceptible, and by which Tancred at onceattracted and controlled him. But Astarte added to this influence apower to which the Easterns in general do not very easily bow: theinfluence of sex. With the exception of Eva, woman had never guided thespirit or moulded the career of Fakredeen; and, in her instance, thesovereignty had been somewhat impaired by that acquaintance of thecradle, which has a tendency to enfeeble the ideal, though it maystrengthen the affections. But Astarte rose upon him commanding andcomplete, a star whose gradual formation he had not watched, and whoseunexpected brilliancy might therefore be more striking even thanthe superior splendour which he had habitually contemplated. Young, beautiful, queenly, impassioned, and eloquent, surrounded by theaccessories that influence the imagination, and invested withfascinating mystery, Fakredeen, silent and enchanted, had yielded hisspirit to Astarte, even before she revealed to his unaccustomed andastonished mind the godlike forms of her antique theogony. Eva andTancred had talked to him of gods; Astarte had shown them to him. Allvisible images of their boasted divinities of Sinai and of Calvary withwhich he was acquainted were enshrined over the altars of the conventsof Lebanon. He contrasted those representations without beauty or grace, so mean, and mournful, and spiritless, or if endued with attributes ofpower, more menacing than majestic, and morose rather than sublime, withthose shapes of symmetry, those visages of immortal beauty, sereneyet full of sentiment, on which he had gazed that morning with a holyrapture. The Queen had said that, besides Mount Sinai and MountCalvary, there was also Mount Olympus. It was true; even Tancred hadnot challenged her assertion. And the legends of Olympus were as old as, nay, older than, those of the convent or the mosques. 

This was no mythic fantasy of the beautiful Astarte; the fond traditionof a family, a race, even a nation. These were not the gods merely ofthe mountains: they had been, as they deserved to be, the gods of agreat world, of great nations, and of great men. They were the gods ofAlexander and of Caius Julius; they were the gods under whose divineadministration Asia had been powerful, rich, luxurious and happy. Theywere the gods who had covered the coasts and plains with magnificentcities, crowded the midland ocean with golden galleys, and filled theprovinces that were now a chain of wilderness and desert with teemingand thriving millions. No wonder the Ansarey were faithful to suchdeities. The marvel was why men should ever have deserted them. Butman had deserted them, and man was unhappy. All, Eva, Tancred, his ownconsciousness, the surrounding spectacles of his life, assured him thatman was unhappy, degraded, or discontented; at all events, miserable. Hewas not surprised that a Syrian should be unhappy, even a Syrian prince, for he had no career; he was not surprised that the Jews were unhappy, because they were the most persecuted of the human race, and in allprobability, very justly so, for such an exception as Eva provednothing; but here was an Englishman, young, noble, very rich, with everyadvantage of nature and fortune, and he had come out to Syria to tellthem that all Europe was as miserable as themselves. What if theirmisery had been caused by their deserting those divinities who had oncemade them so happy?

A great question; Fakredeen indulged in endless combinations while hesmoked countless nargilehs. If religion were to cure the world, supposethey tried this ancient and once popular faith, so very popular inSyria. The Queen of the Ansarey could command five-and-twenty thousandapproved warriors, and the Emir of the Lebanon could summon a host, if not as disciplined, far more numerous. Fakredeen, in a frenzyof reverie, became each moment more practical. Asian supremacy, cosmopolitan regeneration, and theocratic equality, all graduallydisappeared. An independent Syrian kingdom, framed and guarded by ahundred thousand sabres, rose up before him; an established Olympianreligion, which the Druses, at his instigation, would embrace, andtoleration for the Maronites till he could bribe Bishop Nicodemus toarrange a general conformity, and convert his great principal from thePatriarch into the Pontiff of Antioch. The Jews might remain, provided they negotiated a loan which should consolidate the Olympianinstitutions and establish the Gentile dynasty of Fakredeen and Astarte. 

CHAPTER LIV. 

 _Astarte is Jealous_

WHEN Fakredeen bade Tancred as usual good-night, his voice was differentfrom its accustomed tones; he had replied to Tancred with asperityseveral times during the evening; and when he was separated from hiscompanion, he felt relieved. All unconscious of these changes andsymptoms was the heir of Bellamont. 

Though grave, one indeed who never laughed and seldom smiled, Tancredwas blessed with the rarest of all virtues, a singularly sweet temper. He was grave, because he was always thinking, and thinking of greatdeeds. But his heart was soft, and his nature most kind, andremarkably regardful of the feelings of others. To wound them, howeverunintentionally, would occasion him painful disturbance. Thoughnaturally rapid in the perception of character, his inexperience oflife, and the self-examination in which he was so frequently absorbed, tended to blunt a little his observation of others. With a generousfailing, which is not uncommon, he was prepared to give those whomhe loved credit for the virtues which he himself possessed, and thesentiments which he himself extended to them. Being profound, steadfast, and most loyal in his feelings, he was incapable of suspecting that hiselected friend could entertain sentiments towards him less deep, lessearnest, and less faithful. The change in the demeanour of the Emirwas, therefore, unnoticed by him. And what might be called the sullenirritability of Fakredeen was encountered with the usual gentleness andtotal disregard of self which always distinguished the behaviour of LordMontacute. 

The next morning they were invited by Astarte to a hawking party, and, leaving the rugged ravines, they descended into a softer andmore cultivated country, where they found good sport. Fakredeen was anaccomplished falconer, and loved to display his skill before the Queen. Tancred was quite unpractised, but Astarte seemed resolved that heshould become experienced in the craft among her mountains, which didnot please the Emir, as he caracoled in sumptuous dress on a splendidsteed, with the superb falcon resting on his wrist. 

The princes dined again with Keferinis; that, indeed, was to be theircustom during their stay; afterwards, accompanied by the minister, they repaired to the royal divan, where they had received a generalinvitation. Here they found Astarte alone, with the exception of Cyprosand her companions, who worked with their spindles apart; and here, onthe pretext of discussing the high topics on which they had repairedto Gindarics, there was much conversation on many subjects. Thus passedone, two, and even three days; thus, in general, would their hours beoccupied at Gindarics. In the morning the hawks, or a visit to somegreen valley, which was blessed with a stream and beds of oleander, andgroves of acacia or sycamore. Fakredeen had no cause to complain ofthe demeanour of Astarte towards him, for it was most gracious andencouraging. Indeed, he pleased her; and she was taken, as many hadbeen, by the ingenuous modesty, the unaffected humility, the tender andtouching deference of his manner; he seemed to watch her every glance, and hang upon her every accent: his sympathy with her was perfect; heagreed with every sentiment and observation that escaped her. Blushing, boyish, unsophisticated, yet full of native grace, and evidently giftedwith the most amiable disposition, it was impossible not to view withinterest, and even regard, one so young and so innocent. 

But while the Emir had no cause to be dissatisfied with the demeanour ofAstarte to himself, he could not be unaware that her carriage to Tancredwas different, and he doubted whether the difference was in his favour. He hung on the accents of Astarte, but he remarked that the Queen hungupon the accents of Tancred, who, engrossed with great ideas, and fullof a great purpose, was unconscious of what did not escape thelynx-like glance of his companion. However, Fakredeen was not, under anycircumstances, easily disheartened; in the present case, there were manycircumstances to encourage him. This was a great situation; there wasroom for combinations. He felt that he was not unfavoured by Astarte; hehad confidence, and a just confidence, in his power of fascination. Hehad to combat a rival, who was, perhaps, not thinking of conquest; atany rate, who was unconscious of success. Even had he the advantage, which Fakredeen was not now disposed to admit, he might surely bebaffled by a competitor with a purpose, devoting his whole intelligenceto his object, and hesitating at no means to accomplish it. 

Fakredeen became great friends with Keferinis. He gave up his time andattentions much to that great personage; anointed him with the mostdelicious flattery, most dexterously applied; consulted him on greataffairs which had no existence; took his advice on conjunctures whichnever could occur; assured Keferinis that, in his youth, the EmirBescheer had impressed on him the importance of cultivating the friendlyfeelings and obtaining the support of the distinguished minister of theAnsarey; gave him some jewels, and made him enormous promises. 

On the fourth day of the visit, Fakredeen found himself alone withAstarte, at least, without the presence of Tancred, whom Keferinis haddetained in his progress to the royal apartment. The young Emir hadpushed on, and gained an opportunity which he had long desired. 

They were speaking of the Lebanon; Fakredeen had been giving Astarte, at her request, a sketch of Canobia, and intimating his inexpressiblegratification were she to honour his castle with a visit; when, somewhatabruptly, in a suppressed voice, and in a manner not wholly free fromembarrassment, Astarte said, 'What ever surprises me is, that Darkush, who is my servant at Damascus, should have communicated, by the faithfulmessenger, that one of the princes seeking to visit Gindarics was of ourbeautiful and ancient faith; for the Prince of England has assured methat nothing was more unfounded or indeed impossible; that the faith, ancient and beautiful, never prevailed in the land of his fathers; andthat the reason why he was acquainted with the god-like forms is, thatin his country it is the custom (custom to me most singular, and indeedincomprehensible) to educate the youth by teaching them the ancientpoems of the Greeks, poems quite lost to us, but in which are embalmedthe sacred legends. '

'We ought never to be surprised at anything that is done by theEnglish, ' observed Fakredeen; 'who are, after all, in a certain sense, savages. Their country produces nothing; it is an island, a mere rock, larger than Malta, but not so well fortified. Everything they requireis imported from other countries; they get their corn from Odessa, andtheir wine from the ports of Spain. I have been assured at Beiroot thatthey do not grow even their own cotton, but that I can hardly believe. Even their religion is an exotic; and as they are indebted for that toSyria, it is not surprising that they should import their education fromGreece. '

'Poor people!' exclaimed the Queen; 'and yet they travel; they wish toimprove themselves?'

'Darkush, however, ' continued Fakredeen, without noticing the lastobservation of Astarte, 'was not wrongly informed. '

'Not wrongly informed?'

'No: one of the princes who wished to visit Gindarics was, in a certainsense, of the ancient and beautiful faith, but it was not the Prince ofthe English. '

'What are these pigeons that you are flying without letters!' exclaimedAstarte, looking very perplexed. 

'Ah! beautiful Astarte, ' said Fakredeen, with a sigh; 'you did not knowmy mother. '

'How should I know your mother, Emir of the castles of Lebanon? Have Iever left these mountains, which are dearer to me than the pyramids ofEgypt to the great Pasha? Have I ever looked upon your women, Maroniteor Druse, walking in white sheets, as if they were the children of tenthousand ghouls; with horns on their heads, as if they were the wildhorses of the desert?'

'Ask Keferinis, ' said Fakredeen, still sighing; 'he has been atBteddeen, the court of the Emir Bescheer. He knew my mother, at least bymemory. My mother, beautiful Astarte, was an Ansarey. '

'Your mother was an Ansarey!' repeated Astarte, in a tone of infinitesurprise; 'your mother an Ansarey? Of what family was she a child?'

'Ah!' replied Fakredeen, 'there it is; that is the secret sorrow ofmy life. A mystery hangs over my mother, for I lost both my parents inextreme childhood; I was at her heart, ' he added, in a broken voice, 'and amid outrage, tumult, and war. Of whom was my mother the child? I amhere to discover that, if possible. Her race and her beautiful religionhave been the dream of my life. All I have prayed for has been torecognise her kindred and to behold her gods. '

'It is very interesting, ' murmured the Queen. 

'It is more than interesting, ' sighed Fakredeen. 'Ah! beautiful Astarte!if you knew all, if you could form even the most remote idea of what Ihave suffered for this unknown faith;' and a passionate tear quivered onthe radiant cheek of the young prince. 

'And yet you came here to preach the doctrines of another, ' saidAstarte. 

'I came here to preach the doctrines of another!' replied Fakredeen, with an expression of contempt; his nostril dilated, his lip curled withscorn. 'This mad Englishman came here to preach the doctrines of anothercreed, and one with which it seems to me, he has as little connectionas his frigid soil has with palm trees. They produce them, I am told, inhouses of glass, and they force their foreign faith in the same manner;but, though they have temples, and churches, and mosques, they confessthey have no miracles; they admit that they never produced a prophet;they own that no God ever spoke to their people, or visited their land;and yet this race, so peculiarly favoured by celestial communication, aspire to be missionaries!'

'I have much misapprehended you, ' said Astarte; 'I thought you were bothembarked in a great cause. '

'Ah, you learnt that from Darkush!' quickly replied Fakredeen. 'You see, beautiful Astarte, that I have no personal acquaintance with Darkush. Itwas the intendant of my companion who was his friend; and it is throughhim that Darkush has learnt anything that he has communicated. Themission, the project, was not mine; but when I found my comrade had themeans, which had hitherto evaded me, of reaching Gindarics, I threwno obstacles in his crotchety course. On the contrary, I embraced theopportunity even with fervour, and far from discouraging my friend fromviews to which I know he is fatally, even ridiculously, wedded, I lookedforward to this expedition as the possible means of diverting hismind from some opinions, and, I might add, some influences, which I ampersuaded can eventually entail upon him nothing but disappointmentand disgrace. ' And here Fakredeen shook his head, with that air ofconfidential mystery which so cleverly piques curiosity. 

'Whatever may be his fate, ' said Astarte, in a tone of seriousness, 'the English prince does not seem to me to be a person who could everexperience disgrace. '

'No, no, ' quickly replied his faithful friend; 'of course I did notspeak of personal dishonour. He is extremely proud and rash, and notin any way a practical man; but he is not a person who ever woulddo anything to be sent to the bagnio or the galleys. What I mean bydisgrace is, that he is mixed up with transactions, and connected withpersons who will damage, cheapen, in a worldly sense dishonour him, destroy all his sources of power and influence. For instance, now, inhis country, in England, a Jew is never permitted to enter England; theymay settle in Gibraltar, but in England, no. Well, it is perfectly wellknown among all those who care about these affairs, that this enterpriseof his, this religious-politico-military adventure, is merely undertakenbecause he happens to be desperately enamoured of a Jewess at Damascus, whom he cannot carry home as his bride. '

'Enamoured of a Jewess at Damascus!' said Astarte, turning pale. 

'To folly, to frenzy; she is at the bottom of the whole of this affair;she talks Cabala to him, and he Nazareny to her; and so, between them, they have invented this grand scheme, the conquest of Asia, perhaps theworld, with our Syrian sabres, and we are to be rewarded for our painsby eating passover cakes. '

'What are they?'

'Festival bread of the Hebrews, made in the new moon, with the milk ofhe-goats. '

'What horrors!'

'What a reward for conquest!'

'Will the Queen of the English let one of her princes marry a Jewess?'

'Never; he will be beheaded, and she will be burnt alive, eventually;but, in the meantime, a great deal of mischief may occur, unless we stopit. '

'It certainly should be stopped. '

'What amuses me most in this affair, ' continued Fakredeen, 'is the coolway in which this Englishman comes to us for our assistance. First, heis at Canobia, then at Gindarics; we are to do the business, and Syriais spoken of as if it were nothing. Now the fact is, Syria is the onlypractical feature of the case. There is no doubt that, if we were allagreed, if Lebanon and the Ansarey were to unite, we could clearSyria of the Turks, conquer the plain, and carry the whole coast ina campaign, and no one would ever interfere to disturb us. Why shouldthey? The Turks could not, and the natives of Fran-guestan would not. Leave me to manage them. There is nothing in the world I so revel in ashocus-sing Guizot and Aberdeen. You never heard of Guizot and Aberdeen?They are the two Reis Effendis of the King of the French and the Queenof the English. I sent them an archbishop last year, one of my fellows, Archbishop Murad, who led them a pretty dance. They nearly made me Kingof the Lebanon, to put an end to disturbances which never existed exceptin the venerable Murad's representations. '

'These are strange things! Has she charms, this Jewess? Very beautiful, I suppose?'

'The Englishman vows so; he is always raving of her; talks of her in hissleep. '

'As you say, it would indeed be strange to draw our sabres for a Jewess. Is she dark or fair?'

'I think, when he writes verses to her, he always calls her a moon or astar; that smacks nocturnal and somewhat sombre. '

'I detest the Jews; but I have heard their women are beautiful. '

'We will banish them all from our kingdom of Syria, ' said Fakredeen, looking at Astarte earnestly. 

'Why, if we are to make a struggle, it should be for something. Therehave been Syrian kingdoms. '

'And shall be, beauteous Queen, and you shall rule them. I believe nowthe dream of my life will be realised. '

'Why, what's that?'

'My mother's last aspiration, the dying legacy of her passionate soul, known only to me, and never breathed to human being until this moment. '

'Then you recollect your mother?'

'It was my nurse, long since dead, who was the depositary of theinjunction, and in due time conveyed it to me. '

'And what was it?'

'To raise, at Deir el Kamar, the capital of our district, a marbletemple to the Syrian goddess. '

'Beautiful idea!'

'It would have drawn back the mountain to the ancient faith; the Drusesare half-prepared, and wait only my word. '

'But the Nazareny bishops, ' said the Queen, 'whom you find so useful, what will they say?'

'What did the priests and priestesses of the Syrian goddess say, whenSyria became Christian? They turned into bishops and nuns. Let them turnback again. '

CHAPTER LV. 

 _Capture of a Harem_

TANCRED and Fakredeen had been absent from Gindarics for two or threedays, making an excursion in the neighbouring districts, and visitingseveral of those chieftains whose future aid might be of much importanceto them. Away from the unconscious centre of many passions andintrigues, excited by the novelty of their life, sanguine of theultimate triumph of his manoeuvres, and at times still influenced byhis companion, the demeanour of the young Emir of Lebanon to his friendresumed something of its wonted softness, confidence, and complaisance. They were once more in sight of the wild palace-fort of Astarte;spurring their horses, they dashed before their attendants over theplain, and halted at the huge portal of iron, while the torches werelit, and preparations were made for the passage of the covered way. 

When they entered the principal court, there were unusual appearancesof some recent and considerable occurrence: groups of Turkish soldiers, disarmed, reclining camels, baggage and steeds, and many of the armedtribes of the mountain. 

'What is all this?' inquired Fakredeen. 

''Tis the harem of the Pasha of Aleppo, ' replied a warrior, 'captured onthe plain, and carried up into the mountains to our Queen of queens. '

'The war begins, ' said Fakredeen, looking round at Tancred with aglittering eye. 

'Women make war on women, ' he replied. 

''Tis the first step, ' said the Emir, dismounting; 'I care not how itcomes. Women are at the bottom of everything. If it had not been for theSultana Mother, I should have now been Prince of the Mountain. '

When they had regained their apartments the lordly Keferinis soonappeared, to offer them his congratulations on their return. Theminister was peculiarly refined and mysterious this morning, especiallywith respect to the great event, which he involved in so much ofobscurity, that, after much conversation, the travellers were as littleacquainted with the occurrence as when they entered the courtyard ofGindarics. 

'The capture of a pasha's harem is not water spilt on sand, lordlyKeferinis, ' said the Emir. 'We shall hear more of this. '

'What we shall hear, ' replied Keferinis, 'is entirely an affair of thefuture; nor is it in any way to be disputed that there are few men whodo not find it more difficult to foretell what is to happen than toremember what has taken place. '

'We sometimes find that memory is as rare a quality as prediction, ' saidTancred. 

'In England, ' replied the lordly Keferinis; 'but it is never to beforgotten, and indeed, on the contrary, should be entirely recollected, that the English, being a new people, have nothing indeed which they canremember. '

Tancred bowed. 

'And how is the most gracious lady, Queen of queens?' inquiredFakredeen. 

'The most gracious lady, Queen of queens, ' replied Keferinis, verymysteriously, 'has at this time many thoughts. '

'If she require any aid, ' said Fakredeen, 'there is not a musket inLebanon that is not at her service. '

Keferinis bent his head, and said, 'It is not in any way to bedisputed that there are subjects which require for their managementthe application of a certain degree of force, and the noble Emir ofthe Lebanon has expressed himself in that sense with the mostexact propriety; there are also subjects which are regulated by theapplication of a certain number of words, provided they were wellchosen, and distinguished by an inestimable exactitude. It does not byany means follow that from what has occurred there will be sanguinaryencounters between the people of the gracious lady, Queen of queens, andthose that dwell in plains and cities; nor can it be denied that war isa means by which many things are brought to a final conjuncture. At thesame time courtesy has many charms, even for the Turks, though it is notto be denied, or in any way concealed, that a Turk, especially if he bea pasha, is, of all obscene and utter children of the devil, the mostentirely contemptible and thoroughly to be execrated. '

'If I were the Queen, I would not give up the harem, ' said Fakredeen;'and I would bring affairs to a crisis. The garrison at Aleppo is notstrong; they have been obliged to march six regiments to Deir el Kamar, and, though affairs are comparatively tranquil in Lebanon for themoment, let me send a pigeon to my cousin Francis El Kazin, and youngSyria will get up such a stir that old Wageah Pasha will not spare asingle man. I will have fifty bonfires on the mountain near Beiroot inone night, and Colonel Rose will send off a steamer to Sir Canning totell him there is a revolt in the Lebanon, with a double despatch forAberdeen, full of smoking villages and slaughtered women!' and the youngEmir inhaled his nargileh with additional zest as he recollected thetriumphs of his past mystifications. 

At sunset it was announced to the travellers that the Queen wouldreceive them. Astarte appeared much gratified by their return, was verygracious, although in a different way, to both of them, inquired muchas to what they had seen and what they had done, with whom they hadconversed, and what had been said. At length she observed, 'Somethinghas also happened at Gindarics in your absence, noble princes. Lastnight they brought part of a harem of the Pasha of Aleppo captivehither. This may lead to events. '

'I have already ventured to observe to the lordly Keferinis, ' saidFakredeen, 'that every lance in the Lebanon is at your command, graciousQueen. '

'We have lances, ' said Astarte; 'it is not of that I was thinking. Norindeed do I care to prolong a quarrel for this capture. If the Pashawill renounce the tribute of the villages, I am for peace; if he willnot, we will speak of those things of which there has been counselbetween us. I do not wish this affair of the harem to be mixed up withwhat has preceded it. My principal captive is a most beautiful woman, and one, too, that greatly interests and charms me. She is not a Turk, but, I apprehend, a Christian lady of the cities. She is plunged ingrief, and weeps sometimes with so much bitterness that I quite shareher sorrow; but it is not so much because she is a captive, but becausesome one, who is most dear to her, has been slain in this fray. I havevisited her, and tried to console her; and begged her to forget hergrief and become my companion. But nothing soothes her, and tears flowfor ever from eyes which are the most beautiful I ever beheld. '

'This is the land of beautiful eyes, ' said Tancred, and Astarte almostunconsciously glanced at the speaker. 

Cypros, who had quitted the attendant maidens immediately on theentrance of the two princes, after an interval, returned. There wassome excitement on her countenance as she approached her mistress, andaddressed Astarte in a hushed but hurried tone. It seemed that the faircaptive of the Queen of the Ansarey had most unexpectedly expressed toCypros her wish to repair to the divan of the Queen, although, thewhole day, she had frequently refused to descend. Cypros feared that thepresence of the two guests of her mistress might prove an obstacle tothe fulfilment of this wish, as the freedom of social intercourse thatprevailed among the Ansarey was unknown even among the ever-veiled womenof the Maronites and Druses. But the fair captive had no prejudices onthis head, and Cypros had accordingly descended to request the royalpermission, or consult the royal will. Astarte spoke to Keferinis, wholistened with an air of great profundity, and finally bowed assent, andCypros retired. 

Astarte had signified to Tancred her wish that he should approach her, while Keferinis at some distance was engaged in earnest conversationwith Fakredeen, with whom he had not had previously the opportunity ofbeing alone. His report of all that had transpired in his absence washighly favourable. The minister had taken the opportunity of the absenceof the Emir and his friend to converse often and amply about them withthe Queen. The idea of an united Syria was pleasing to the imaginationof the young sovereign. The suggestion was eminently practicable. Itrequired no extravagant combinations, no hazardous chances of fortune, nor fine expedients of political skill. A union between Fakredeen andAstarte at once connected the most important interests of the mountainswithout exciting the alarm or displeasure of other powers. The union wasas legitimate as it would ultimately prove irresistible. It ensured arespectable revenue and a considerable force; and, with prudence andvigilance, the occasion would soon offer to achieve all the rest. On thenext paroxysm in the dissolving empire of the Ottomans, the plain wouldbe occupied by a warlike population descending from the mountains thatcommanded on one side the whole Syrian coast, and on the other all theinland cities from Aleppo to Damascus. 

The eye of the young Emir glittered with triumph as he listened to theoily sentences of the eunuch. 'Lebanon, ' he whispered, 'is the key ofSyria, my Keferinis, never forget that; and we will lock up the land. Let us never sleep till this affair is achieved. You think she does notdream of a certain person, eh? I tell you, he must go, or we must getrid of him: I fear him not, but he is in the way; and the way shouldbe smooth as the waters of El Arish. Remember the temple to the Syriangoddess at Deir el Kamar, my Keferinis! The religion is half the battle. How I shall delight to get rid of my bishops and those accursed monks:drones, drivellers, bigots, drinking my golden wine of Canobia, andsmoking my delicate Latakia. You know not Canobia, Keferinis; but youhave heard of it. You have been at Bted-deen? Well, Bteddeen to Canobiais an Arab moon to a Syrian sun. The marble alone at Canobia cost amillion of piastres. The stables are worthy of the steeds of Solomon. You may kill anything you like in the forest, from panthers toantelopes. Listen, my Keferinis, let this be done, and done quickly, andCanobia is yours. '

'Do you ever dream?' said Astrate to Tancred. 'They say that life isa dream. ' 'I sometimes wish it were. Its pangs are too acute for ashadow. '

'But you have no pangs. '

'I had a dream when you were away, in which I was much alarmed, ' saidAstarte. 'Indeed!'

'I thought that Gindarics was taken by the Jews. I suppose you havetalked of them to me so much that my slumbering memory wandered. '

'It is a resistless and exhaustless theme, ' said Tancred; 'for thegreatness and happiness of everything, Gindarics included, are comprisedin the principles of which they were the first propagators. '

'Nevertheless, I should be sorry if my dream came to be true, ' saidAstarte. 

'May your dreams be as bright and happy as your lot, royal lady!' saidTancred. 

'My lot is not bright and happy, ' said the Queen; 'once I thought itwas, but I think so no longer. '

'But why?'

'I wish you could have a dream and find out, ' said the Queen. 'Disquietude is sometimes as perplexing as pleasure. Both come and golike birds. '

'Like the pigeon you sent to Damascus, ' said Tancred. 

'Ah! why did I send it?'

'Because you were most gracious, lady. '

'Because I was very rash, noble prince. '

'When the great deeds are done to which this visit will lead, you willnot think so. '

'I am not born for great deeds; I am a woman, and I am content withbeautiful ones. '

'You still dream of the Syrian goddess, ' said Tan-cred. 

'No; not of the Syrian goddess. Tell me: they say the Hebrew women arevery lovely, is it so?'

'They have that reputation. '

'But do you think so?'

'I have known some distinguished for their beauty. '

'Do they resemble the statue in our temple?'

'Their style is different, ' said Tancred; 'the Greek and the Hebrew areboth among the highest types of the human form. '

'But you prefer the Hebrew?'

'I am not so discriminating a critic, ' said Tancred; 'I admire thebeautiful. '

'Well, here comes my captive, ' said the Queen; 'if you like, you shallfree her, for she wonderfully takes me. She is a Georgian, I suppose, and bears the palm from all of us. I will not presume to contend withher: she would vanquish, perhaps, even that fair Jewess of whom, I hear, you are so enamoured. '

Tancred started, and would have replied, but Cypros advanced at thismoment with her charge, who withdrew her veil as she seated herself, ascommanded, before the Queen. She withdrew her veil, and Fakredeen andTancred beheld Eva!

CHAPTER LVI. 

 _Eva a Captive_

IN ONE of a series of chambers excavated in the mountains, yet connectedwith the more artificial portion of the palace, chambers and gallerieswhich in the course of ages had served for many purposes, sometimesof security, sometimes of punishment; treasuries not unfrequently, andoccasionally prisons; in one of these vast cells, feebly illumined fromapertures above, lying on a rude couch with her countenance hidden, motionless and miserable, was the beautiful daughter of Besso, one whohad been bred in all the delights of the most refined luxury, and in theenjoyment of a freedom not common in any land, and most rare among theEasterns. 

The events of her life had been so strange and rapid during the last fewdays that, even amid her woe, she revolved in her mind their startlingimport. It was little more than ten days since, under the guardianshipof her father, she had commenced her journey from Damascus to Aleppo. When they had proceeded about half way, they were met at the city ofHorns by a detachment of Turkish soldiers, sent by the Pasha of Aleppo, at the request of Hillel Besso, to escort them, the country being muchtroubled in consequence of the feud with the Ansarey. Notwithstandingthese precautions, and although, from the advices they received, theytook a circuitous and unexpected course, they were attacked by themountaineers within half a day's journey of Aleppo; and with so muchstrength and spirit, that their guards, after some resistance, fled anddispersed, while Eva and her attendants, after seeing her father cutdown in her defence, was carried a prisoner to Gindarics. 

Overwhelmed by the fate of her father, she was at first insensible toher own, and was indeed so distracted that she delivered herself up todespair. She was beginning in some degree to collect her senses, and tosurvey her position with some comparative calmness, when she learntfrom the visit of Cypros that Fakredeen and Tancred were, by a strangecoincidence, under the same roof as herself. Then she recalled the kindsympathy and offers of consolation that had been evinced and profferedto her by the mistress of the castle, to whose expressions at the timeshe had paid but an imperfect attention. Under these circumstances sheearnestly requested permission to avail herself of a privilege, whichhad been previously offered and refused, to become the companion, ratherthan the captive, of the Queen of the Ansarey; so that she might findsome opportunity of communicating with her two friends, of inquiringabout her father, and of consulting with them as to the best steps to beadopted in her present exigency. 

The interview, from which so much was anticipated, had turned out asstrange and as distressful as any of the recent incidents to which itwas to have brought balm and solace. Recognised instantly by Tancred andthe young Emir, and greeted with a tender respect, almost equal to thesurprise and sorrow which they felt at beholding her, Astarte, hithertoso unexpectedly gracious to her captive, appeared suddenly agitated, excited, haughty, even hostile. The Queen had immediately summonedFakredeen to her side, and there passed between them some hurried andperturbed explanations; subsequently she addressed some inquiries toTancred, to which he replied without reserve. Soon afterwards, Astarte, remaining intent and moody, the court was suddenly broken up; Keferinissignifying to the young men that they should retire, while Astarte, without bestowing on them her usual farewell, rose, and, followed by hermaidens, quitted the chamber. As for Eva, instead of returning to one ofthe royal apartments which had been previously allotted to her, she wasconducted to what was in fact a prison. 

There she had passed the night and a portion of the ensuing day, visitedonly by Cypros, who, when Eva would have inquired the cause of all thismysterious cruelty and startling contrast to the dispositions which hadpreceded it, only shook her head and pressed her finger to her lip, tosignify the impossibility of her conversing with her captive. 

It was one of those situations where the most gifted are deserted bytheir intelligence; where there is as little to guide as to console;where the mystery is as vast as the misfortune; and the torturedapprehension finds it impossible to grapple with irresistiblecircumstances. 

In this state, the daughter of Besso, plunged in a dark reverie, inwhich the only object visible to her mind's eye was the last glance ofher dying father, was roused from her approaching stupor by a sound, distinct, yet muffled, as if some one wished to attract her attention, without startling her by too sudden an interruption. She looked up;again she heard the sound, and then, in a whispered tone, her name----

'Eva!'

'I am here. '

'Hush!' said a figure, stealing into the caverned chamber, and thenthrowing off his Syrian cloak, revealing to her one whom she recognised. 

'Fakredeen, ' she said, starting from her couch, 'what is all this?'

The countenance of Fakredeen was distressed and agitated; there was anexpression of alarm, almost of terror, stamped upon his features. 

'You must follow me, ' he said; 'there is not a moment to lose; you mustfly!'

'Why and whither?' said Eva. 'This capture is one of plunder not ofmalice, or was so a few hours back. It is not sorrow for myself thatoverwhelmed me. But yesterday, the sovereign of these mountains treatedme with a generous sympathy, and, if it brought me no solace, it wasonly because events have borne, I fear, irremediable woe. And now Isuddenly find myself among my friends; friends, who, of all others, Ishould most have wished to encounter at this moment, and all is changed. I am a prisoner, under every circumstance of harshness, even of cruelty, and you speak to me as if my life, my immediate existence, was inperil. '

'It is. '

'But why?'

Fakredeen wrung his hands, and murmured, 'Let us go. '

'I scarcely care to live, ' said Eva; 'and I will not move until you giveme some clue to all this mystery. '

'Well, then, she is jealous of you; the Queen, Astarte; she is jealousof you with the English prince, that man who has brought us all so manyvexations. ' 'Is it he that has brought us so many vexations?' repliedEva. 'The Queen jealous of me, and with the English prince! 'Tis verystrange. We scarcely exchanged a dozen sentences together, when all wasdisturbed and broken up. Jealous of me! Why, then, was she anxious thatI should descend to her divan? This is not the truth, Fakredeen. '

'Not all; but it is the truth; it is, indeed. The Queen is jealous ofyou: she is in love with Tancred; a curse be on him and her both! andsomebody has told her that Tancred is in love with you. ' 'Somebody! Whendid they tell her?' 'Long ago; long ago. She knew, that is, she had beentold, that Tancred was affianced to the daughter of Besso of Damascus;and so this sudden meeting brought about a crisis. I did what I couldto prevent it; vowed that you were only the cousin of the Besso that shemeant; did everything, in short, I could to serve and save you; but itwas of no use. She was wild, is wild, and your life is in peril. '

Eva mused a moment. Then, looking up, she said, 'Fakredeen, it is youwho told the Queen this story. You are the somebody who has inventedthis fatal falsehood. What was your object I care not to inquire, knowing full well, that, if you had an object, you never would sparefriend or foe. Leave me. I have little wish to live; but I believe inthe power of truth. I will confront the Queen and tell her all. She willcredit what I say; if she do not, I can meet my fate; but I will not, now or ever, entrust it to you. '

Thereupon Fakredeen burst into a flood of passionate tears, and, throwing himself on the ground, kissed Eva's feet, and clung to hergarments which he embraced, sobbing, and moaning, and bestowing on herendless phrases of affection, mixed with imprecations on his own headand conduct. 

'O Eva! my beloved Eva, sister of my soul, it is of no use telling youany lies! Yes, I am that villain and that idiot who has brought aboutall this misery, misery enough to turn me mad, and which, by a justretribution, has destroyed all the brilliant fortunes which were at lastopening on me. This Frank stranger was the only bar to my union withthe sovereign of these mountains, whose beauty you have witnessed, whosepower, combined with my own, would found a kingdom. I wished to marryher. You cannot be angry with me, Eva, for that. You know very wellthat, if you had married me yourself, we should neither of us have beenin the horrible situation in which we now find ourselves. Ah! that wouldhave been a happy union! But let that pass. I have always been the mostunfortunate of men; I have never had justice done me. Well, she lovedthis prince of Franguestan. I saw it; nothing escapes me. I let her knowthat he was devoted to another. Why I mentioned your name I cannotwell say; perhaps because it was the first that occurred to me; perhapsbecause I have a lurking suspicion that he really does love you. Theinformation worked. 

My own suit prospered. I bribed her minister. He is devoted to me. Allwas smiling. How could I possibly have anticipated that you would everarrive here! When I saw you, I felt that all was lost. I endeavoured torally affairs, but it was useless. Tan-cred has no finesse; his repliesneutralised, nay, destroyed, all my counter representations. The Queenis a whirlwind. She is young; she has never been crossed in her life. You cannot argue with her when her heart is touched. In short, all isruined;' and Fakredeen hid his weeping face in the robes of Eva. 'Whatmisery you prepare for yourself, and for all who know you!' exclaimedEva. 'But that has happened which makes me insensible to further grief. '

'Yes; but listen to what I say, and all will go right. I do not care inthe least for my own disappointment. That now is nothing. It is you, it is of you only that I think, whom I wish to save. Do not chide me:pardon me, pardon me, as you have done a thousand times; pardon and pityme. I am so young and really so inexperienced; after all, I am onlya child; besides, I have not a friend in the world except you. I am avillain, a fool; all villains are. I know it. But I cannot help it. Idid not make myself. The question now is, How are we to get out of thisscrape? How are we to save your life?'

'Do you really mean, Fakredeen, that my life is in peril?'

'Yes, I do, ' said the Emir, crying like a child. 

'You do not know the power of truth, Fakredeen. You have no confidencein it. Let me see the Queen. '

'Impossible!' he said, starting up, and looking very much alarmed. 

'Why?'

'Because, in the first place, she is mad. Keferinis, that is, herminister, one of my creatures, and the only person who can manageher, told me this moment that it was a perfect Kamsin, and that, if heapproached her again, it would be at his own risk; and, in the secondplace, bad as things are, they would necessarily be much worse if shesaw you, because (and it is of no use concealing it any longer) shethinks you already dead. '

'Dead! Already dead!'

'Yes. '

'And where is your friend and companion?' said Eva. 'Does he know ofthese horrors?'

'No one knows of them except myself. The Queen sent for me last night tospeak to me of the subject generally. It was utterly vain to attempt todisabuse her; it would only have compromised all of us. She would onlyhave supposed the truth to be an invention for the moment. I found yourfate sealed. In my desperation, the only thing that occurred to me wasto sympathise with her indignation and approve of all her projects. Sheapprised me that you should not live four-and-twenty hours. I ratherstimulated her vengeance, told her in secresy that your house had nearlyeffected my ruin, and that there was no sacrifice I would not make, and no danger that I would not encounter, to wreak on your race mylong-cherished revenge. I assured her that I had been watching myopportunity for years. Well, you see how it is, Eva; she consigned to methe commission which she would have whispered to one of her slaves. I amhere with her cognisance; indeed, by this time she thinks 'tis all over. You comprehend?'

'You are to be my executioner?'

'Yes; I have undertaken that office in order to save your life. '

'I care not to save my life. What is life to me, since he perhaps isgone who gave me that life, and for whom alone I lived!'

'O Eva! Eva! don't distract me; don't drive me absolutely mad! When aman is doing what I am for your sake, giving up a kingdom, and morethan a kingdom, to treat him thus! But you never did me justice. ' AndFakredeen poured forth renewed tears. 'Keferinis is in my pay; I havegot the signet of the covered way. Here are two Mamlouk dresses; oneyou must put on. 'Without the gates are two good steeds, and ineight-and-forty hours we shall be safe, and smiling again. '

'I shall never smile again, ' said Eva. 'No, Fakredeen, ' she added, aftera moment's pause, 'I will not fly, and you cannot fly. Can you leavealone in this wild place that friend, too faithful, I believe, whom youhave been the means of leading hither?'

'Never mind him, ' said the Emir. 'I wish we had never seen him. He isquite safe. She may keep him a prisoner perhaps. What then? He makesso discreet a use of his liberty that a little durance will not be veryinjurious. His life will be safe enough. Cutting off his head is notthe way to gain his heart. But time presses. Come, my sister, my belovedEva! In a few hours it may not be in my power to effect all this. Come, think of your father, of his anxiety, his grief. One glimpse of you willdo him more service than the most cunning leech. '

Eva burst into passionate tears. 'He will never see us again. I saw himfall; never shall I forget that moment!' and she hid her face in herhands. 

'But he lives, ' said Fakredeen. 'I have been speaking to some of theTurkish prisoners. They also saw him fall; but he was borne off thefield, and, though insensible, it was believed that the wound was notfatal. Trust me, he is at Aleppo. ' 'They saw him borne off the field?''Safe, and, if not well, far from desperate. ' 'O God of my fathers!'said Eva, falling on her knees; 'thine is indeed a mercy-seat!'

'Yes, yes; there is nothing like the God of your fathers, Eva. If youknew the things that are going on in this place, even in these vaultsand caverns, you would not tarry here an instant. They worship nothingbut graven images, and the Queen has fallen in love with Tancred, because he resembles a marble statue older than the times of thepre-Adamite Sultans. Come, come!'

'But how could they know that he was far from desperate?'

'I will show you the man who spoke to him, ' said Fakredeen; 'he is onlywith our horses. You can ask him any questions you like. Come, put onyour Mamlouk dress, every minute is golden. '

'There seems to me something base in leaving him here alone, ' said Eva. 'He has eaten our salt, he is the child of our tents, his blood will beupon our heads. '

'Well, then, fly for his sake, ' said Fakredeen; 'here you cannot aidhim; but when you are once in safety, a thousand things may be done forhis assistance. I could return, for example. '

'Now, Fakredeen, ' said Eva, stopping him, and speaking in a solemn tone, 'if I accompany you, as you now require, will you pledge me your word, that the moment we pass the frontier you will return to him. '

'I swear it, by our true religion, and by my hopes of an earthly crown. '

CHAPTER LVII. 

 _Message of the Pasha_

THE sudden apparition of Eva at Gindarics, and the scene of painfulmystery by which it was followed, had plunged Tancred into the greatestanxiety and affliction. It was in vain that, the moment they had quittedthe presence of Astarte, he appealed to Fakredeen for some explanationof what had occurred, and for some counsel as to the course they shouldimmediately pursue to assist one in whose fate they were both so deeplyinterested. The Emir, for the first time since their acquaintance, seemed entirely to have lost himself. He looked perplexed, almoststunned; his language was incoherent, his gestures those of despair. Tancred, while he at once ascribed all this confused demeanour to theshock which he had himself shared at finding the daughter of Besso acaptive, and a captive under circumstances of doubt and difficulty, could not reconcile such distraction, such an absence of all resourcesand presence of mind, with the exuberant means and the prompt expedientswhich in general were the characteristics of his companion, undercircumstances the most difficult and unforeseen. 

When they had reached their apartments, Fakredeen threw himself uponthe divan and moaned, and, suddenly starting from the couch, paced thechamber with agitated step, wringing his hands. All that Tan-cred couldextract from him was an exclamation of despair, an imprecation on hisown head, and an expression of fear and horror at Eva having fallen intothe hands of pagans and idolaters. 

It was in vain also that Tancred endeavoured to communicate withKeferinis. The minister was invisible, not to be found, and the nightclosed in, when Tancred, after fruitless counsels with Baroni, and manyunited but vain efforts to open some communication with Eva, deliveredhimself not to repose, but to a distracted reverie over the presentharassing and critical affairs. 

When the dawn broke, he rose and sought Fakredeen, but, to his surprise, he found that his companion had already quitted his apartment. Anunusual stillness seemed to pervade Gindarics this day; not a personwas visible. Usually at sunrise all were astir, and shortly afterwardsKeferinis generally paid a visit to the guests of his sovereign; butthis day Keferinis omitted the ceremony, and Tancred, never more anxiousfor companions and counsellors, found himself entirely alone; for Baroniwas about making observations, and endeavouring to find some clue to theposition of Eva. 

Tancred had resolved, the moment that it was practicable, to solicitan audience of Astarte on the subject of Eva, and to enter into allthe representations respecting her which, in his opinion, were alonenecessary to secure for her immediately the most considerate treatment, and ultimately a courteous release. 

The very circumstance that she was united to the Emir of Canobia by tiesso dear and intimate, and was also an individual to whom he himself wasindebted for such generous aid and such invaluable services, would, he of course assumed, independently of her own interesting personalqualities, enlist the kind feelings of Astarte in her favour. Thedifficulty was to obtain this audience of Astarte, for neither Fakredeennor Keferinis was to be found, and no other means of achieving theresult were obvious. 

About two hours before noon, Baroni brought word that he had contrivedto see Cypros, from whom he gathered that Astarte had repaired to thegreat temple of the gods. Instantly, Tancred resolved to enter thepalace, and if possible to find his way to the mysterious sanctuary. That was a course by no means easy; but the enterprising are oftenfortunate, and his project proved not to be impossible. He passedthrough the chambers of the palace, which were entirely deserted, andwith which he was familiar, and he reached without difficulty the portalof bronze, which led to the covered way that conducted to the temple, but it was closed. Baffled and almost in despair, a distant chorusreached his ear, then the tramp of feet, and then slowly the portalopened. He imagined that the Queen was returning; but, on the contrary, pages and women and priests swept by without observing him, for he washidden by one of the opened valves, but Astarte was not there; and, though the venture was rash, Tancred did not hesitate, as the lastindividual in the procession moved on, to pass the gate. The portalshut instantly with a clang, and Tancred found himself alone and incomparative darkness. His previous experience, however, sustained him. His eye, fresh from the sunlight, at first wandered in obscurity, butby degrees, habituated to the atmosphere, though dim, the way wassufficiently indicated, and he advanced, till the light became each stepmore powerful, and soon he emerged upon the platform, which faced themountain temple at the end of the ravine: a still and wondrous scene, more striking now, if possible, when viewed alone, with his heart theprey of many emotions. How full of adventure is life! It is monotonousonly to the monotonous. There may be no longer fiery dragons, magicrings, or fairy wands, to interfere in its course and to influence ourcareer; but the relations of men are far more complicated and numerousthan of yore; and in the play of the passions, and in the devices ofcreative spirits, that have thus a proportionately greater sphere fortheir action, there are spells of social sorcery more potent than allthe necromancy of Merlin or Friar Bacon. 

Tancred entered the temple, the last refuge of the Olympian mind. It wasrace that produced these inimitable forms, the idealised reflex oftheir own peculiar organisation. Their principles of art, practised by adifferent race, do not produce the same results. Yet we shut our eyes tothe great truth into which all truths merge, and we call upon the Pict, or the Sarmatian, to produce the forms of Phidias and Praxiteles. 

Not devoid of that awe which is caused by the presence of the solemnand the beautiful, Tancred slowly traced his steps through the cavernsanctuary. No human being was visible. Upon his right was the fane towhich Astarte led him on his visit of initiation. He was about to enterit, when, kneeling before the form of the Apollo of Antioch, he beheldthe fair Queen of the Ansarey, motionless and speechless, her armscrossed upon her breast, and her eyes fixed upon her divinity, in adream of ecstatic devotion. 

The splendour of the ascending sun fell full upon the statue, suffusingthe ethereal form with radiancy, and spreading around it for some spacea broad and golden halo. As Tancred, recognising the Queen, withdrew afew paces, his shadow, clearly defined, rested on the glowing wall ofthe rock temple. Astarte uttered an exclamation, rose quickly fromher kneeling position, and, looking round, her eyes met those of LordMontacute. Instantly she withdrew her gaze, blushing deeply. 

'I was about to retire, ' murmured Tancred. 

'And why should you retire?' said Astarte, in a soft voice, looking up. 

'There are moments when solitude is sacred. '

'I am too much alone: often, and of late especially, I feel a painfulisolation. '

She moved forward, and they re-entered together the chief temple, andthen emerged into the sunlight. They stood beneath the broad Ionicportico, beholding the strange scene around. Then it was that Tancred, observing that Astarte cared not to advance, and deeming the occasionvery favourable to his wishes, proceeded to explain to her the causeof his venturing to intrude on her this morning. He spoke with thatearnestness, and, if the phrase may be used, that passionate repose, which distinguished him. He enlarged on the character of Besso, hisgreat virtues, his amiable qualities, his benevolence and unboundedgenerosity; he sought in every way to engage the kind feelings ofAstarte in favour of his family, and to interest her in the character ofEva, on which he dilated with all the eloquence of his heart. Truly, healmost did justice to her admirable qualities, her vivid mind, and loftyspirit, and heroic courage; the occasion was too delicate to treat ofthe personal charms of another woman, but he did not conceal his owndeep sense of obligation to Eva for her romantic expedition to thedesert in his behalf. 

'You can understand then, ' concluded Tancred, 'what must have been myastonishment and grief when I found her yesterday a captive. It wassome consolation to me to remember in whose power she had fallen, and Ihasten to throw myself at your feet to supplicate for her safety and herfreedom. '

'Yes, I can understand all this, ' said Astarte, in a low tone. 

Tancred looked at her. Her voice had struck him with pain; hercountenance still more distressed him. Nothing could afford a morecomplete contrast to the soft and glowing visage that a few momentsbefore he had beheld in the fane of Apollo. She was quite pale, almostlivid; her features, of exquisite shape, had become hard and evendistorted; all the bad passions of our nature seemed suddenly to haveconcentred in that face which usually combined perfect beauty of formwith an expression the most gentle, and in truth most lovely. 

'Yes, I can understand all this, ' said Astarte, 'but I shall notexercise any power which I may possess to assist you in violating thelaws of your country, and outraging the wishes of your sovereign. '

'Violating the laws of my country!' exclaimed Tancred, with a perplexedlook. 

'Yes, I know all. Your schemes truly are very heroic and very flatteringto our self-love. We are to lend our lances to place on the throne ofSyria one who would not be permitted to reside in your own country, muchless to rule in it?'

'Of whom, of what, do you speak?'

'I speak of the Jewess whom you would marry, ' said Astarte, in a hushedyet distinct voice, and with a fell glance, 'against all laws, divineand human. '

'Of your prisoner?'

'Well you may call her my prisoner; she is secure. '

'Is it possible you can believe that I even am a suitor of the daughterof Besso?' said Tancred, earnestly. 'I wear the Cross, which is gravenon my heart, and have a heavenly mission to fulfil, from which noearthly thought shall ever distract me. But even were I more thansensible to her charms and virtues, she is affianced, or the same asaffianced; nor have I the least reason to suppose that he who willpossess her hand does not command her heart. '

'Affianced?'

'Not only affianced, but, until this sad adventure, on the very point ofbeing wedded. She was on her way from Damascus to Aleppo, to be unitedto her cousin, when she was brought hither, where she will, I trust, notlong remain your prisoner. '

The countenance of Astarte changed; but, though it lost its painful andvindictive expression, it did not assume one of less distress. After amoment's pause, she murmured, 'Can this be true?'

'Who could have told you otherwise?'

'An enemy of hers, of her family, ' continued Astarte, in a low voice, and speaking as if absorbed in thought; 'one who admitted to me hislong-hoarded vengeance against her house. '

Then turning abruptly, she looked Tancred full in the face, with aglance of almost fierce scrutiny. His clear brow and unfaltering eye, with an expression of sympathy and even kindness on his countenance, mether searching look. 

'No, ' she said; 'it is impossible that you can be false. '

'Why should I be false? or what is it that mixes up my name and lifewith these thoughts and circumstances?'

'Why should you be false? Ah! there it is, ' said Astarte, in a sweet andmournful voice. 'What are any of us to you!' And she wept. 

'It grieves me to see you in sorrow, ' said Tancred, approaching her, andspeaking in a tone of kindness. 

'I am more than sorrowful: this unhappy lady----' and the voice ofAstarte was overpowered by her emotion. 

'You will send her back in safety and with honour to her family, ' saidTancred, soothingly. 'I would fain believe her father has not fallen. My intendant assures me that there are Turkish soldiers here who saw himborne from the field. A little time, and their griefs will vanish. Youwill have the satisfaction of having acted with generosity, with thatgood heart which characterises you; and as for the daughter of Besso, all will be forgotten as she gives one hand to her father and the otherto her husband. '

'It is too late, ' said Astarte in an almost sepulchral voice. 

'What is that?'

'It is too late! The daughter of Besso is no more. '

'Jesu preserve us!' exclaimed Tancred, starting. 'Speak it again: whatis it that you say?'

Astarte shook her head. 

'Woman!' said Tancred, and he seized her hand, but his thoughts were toowild for utterance, and he remained pallid and panting. 

'The daughter of Besso is no more; and I do not lament it, for you lovedher. '

'Oh, grief ineffable!' said Tancred, with a groan, looking up to heaven, and covering his face with his hands: 'I loved her, as I loved the starsand sunshine. ' Then, after a pause, he turned to Astarte, and said, in arapid voice, 'This dreadful deed; when, how, did it happen?'

'Is it so dreadful?'

'Almost as dreadful as such words from woman's lips. A curse be on thehour that I entered these walls!'

'No, no, no!' said Astarte, and she seized his arm distractedly. 'No, no! No curse!'

'It is not true!' said Tancred. 'It cannot be true! She is not dead. '

'Would she were not, if her death is to bring me curses. '

'Tell me when was this?'

'An hour ago, at least. '

'I do not believe it. There is not an arm that would have dared to touchher. Let us hasten to her. It is not too late. '

'Alas! it is too late, ' said Astarte. 'It was an enemy's arm thatundertook the deed. '

'An enemy! What enemy among your people could the daughter of Besso havefound?'

'A deadly one, who seized the occasion offered to a long cherishedvengeance; one who for years has been alike the foe and the victim ofher race and house. There is no hope!'

'I am indeed amazed. Who could this be?'

'Your friend; at least, your supposed friend, the Emir of the Lebanon. '

'Fakredeen?'

'You have said it. '

'The assassin and the foe of Eva!' exclaimed Tancred, with acountenance relieved yet infinitely perplexed. 'There must be some greatmisconception in all this. Let us hasten to the castle. '

'He solicited the office, ' said Astarte; 'he wreaked his vengeance, while he vindicated my outraged feelings. '

'By murdering his dearest friend, the only being to whom he is reallydevoted, his more than friend, his foster-sister, nursed by the sameheart; the ally and inspiration of his life, to whom he himself was asuitor, and might have been a successful one, had it not been for thecustom of her religion and her race, which shrink from any connectionwith strangers and with Nazarenes. '

'His foster-sister!' exclaimed Astarte. 

At this moment Cypros appeared in the distance, hastening to Astartewith an agitated air. Her looks were disturbed; she was almostbreathless when she reached them; she wrung her hands before she spoke. 

'Royal lady!' at length she said, 'I hastened, as you instructed me, at the appointed hour, to the Emir Fakredeen, but I learnt that he hadquitted the castle. 

Then I repaired to the prisoner; but, woe is me! she is not to befound. '

'Not to be found!'

'The raiment that she wore is lying on the floor of her prison. Methinksshe has fled. '

'She has fled with him who was false to us all, ' said Astarte, 'for itwas the Emir of the Lebanon who long ago told me that you were affiancedto the daughter of Besso, and who warned me against joining in anyenterprise which was only to place upon the throne of Syria one whom thelaws of your own country would never recognise as your wife. '

'Intriguer!' said Tancred. 'Vile and inveterate intriguer!'

'It is well, ' said Astarte. 'My spirit is more serene. '

'Would that Eva were with any one else!' said Tancred, thoughtfully, andspeaking, as it were, to himself. 

'Your thoughts are with the daughter of Besso, ' said Astarte. 'You wishto follow her, to guard her, to restore her to her family. '

Tancred looked round and caught the glance of the Queen of the Ansarey, mortified, yet full of affection. 

'It seems to me, ' he said, 'that it is time for me to terminate a visitthat has already occasioned you, royal lady, too much vexation. '

Astarte burst into tears. 

'Let me go, ' she said, 'you want a throne; this is a rude one, yetaccept it. You require warriors, the Ansarey are invincible. My castleis not like those palaces of Antioch of which we have often talked, andwhich were worthy of you, but Gindarics is impregnable, and will serveyou for your headquarters until you conquer that world which you areborn to command. '

'I have been the unconscious agent in petty machinations, ' said Tancred. 'I must return to the desert to recover the purity of my mind. It isArabia alone that can regenerate the world. '

At this moment Cypros, who was standing apart, waved her scarf, andexclaimed, 'Royal lady, I perceive in the distance the ever-faithfulmessenger;' whereupon Astarte looked up, and, as yet invisible to theinexperienced glance of Tancred, recognised what was an infinitely smalldusky speck, each moment becoming more apparent, until at length a birdwas observed by all of them winging its way towards the Queen. 

'Is it the ever-faithful Karaguus, ' said Astarte; 'or is it Ruby-lipsthat ever brings good news?'

'It is Karaguus, ' said Cypros, as the bird drew nearer and nearer; 'butit is not Karaguus of Damascus. By the ring on its neck, it is Karaguusof Aleppo. '

The pigeon now was only a few yards above the head of the Queen. Fatigued, but with an eye full of resolution, it fluttered for a moment, and then fell upon her bosom. Cypros advanced and lifted its weary wing, and untied the cartel which it bore, brief words, but full of meaning, and a terrible interest. 

'The Pasha, at the head of five thousand regular troops, leaves Halebto-morrow to invade our land. '

'Go, ' said Astarte to Tancred; 'to remain here is now dangerous. Thanksto the faithful messenger, you have time to escape with ease from thatland which you scorned to rule, and which loved you too well. '

'I cannot leave it in the hour of peril, ' said Tancred. 'This invasionof the Ottomans may lead to results of which none dream. I will meetthem at the head of your warriors!'

CHAPTER LVIII. 

 _Three Letters of Cabala_

IS THERE any news?' asked Adam Besso of Issachar, the son of Selim, themost cunning leech at Aleppo, and who by day and by night watched thecouch which bore the suffering form of the pride and mainstay of theSyrian Hebrews. 

'There is news, but it has not yet arrived, ' replied Issachar, the sonof Selim, a man advanced in life, but hale, with a white beard, a brighteye, and a benignant visage. 

'There are pearls in the sea, but what are they worth?' murmured Besso. 

'I have taken a Cabala, ' said Issachar, the son of Selim, 'and threetimes that I opened the sacred book, there were three words, and theinitial letter of each word is the name of a person who will enter thisroom this day, and every person will bring news. '

'But what news?' sighed Besso. 'The news of Tophet and of ten thousanddemons?'

'I have taken a Cabala, ' said Issachar, the son of Selim, 'and the newswill be good. '

'To whom and from whom? Good to the Pasha, but not to me! good to thepeople of Haleb, but not, perhaps, to the family of Besso. '

'God will guard over his own. In the meanwhile, I must replace thisbandage, noble Besso. Let me rest your arm upon this cushion and youwill endure less pain. '

'Alas! worthy Issachar, I have wounds deeper than any you can probe. '

The resignation peculiar to the Orientals had sustained Besso underhis overwhelming calamity. He neither wailed nor moaned. Absorbed in abrooding silence, he awaited the result of the measures which had beentaken for the release of Eva, sustained by the chance of success, andcaring not to survive if encountering failure. The Pasha of Aleppo, longirritated by the Ansarey, and meditating for some time an invasion oftheir country, had been fired by the all-influential representations ofthe family of Besso instantly to undertake a step which, although it hadbeen for some time contemplated, might yet, according to Turkishcustom, have been indefinitely postponed. Three regiments of the line, disciplined in the manner of Europe, some artillery, and a strongdetachment of cavalry, had been ordered at once to invade the contiguousterritory of the Ansarey. Hillel Besso had accompanied the troops, leaving his uncle under his paternal roof, disabled by his lateconflict, but suffering from wounds which in themselves were seriousrather than perilous. 

Four days had elapsed since the troops had quitted Aleppo. It wasthe part of Hillel, before they had recourse to hostile movements, toobtain, if possible, the restoration of the prisoners by fair means; norwere any resources wanting to effect this purpose. A courier had arrivedat Aleppo from Hillel, apprising Adam Besso that the Queen of theAnsarey had not only refused to give up the prisoners, but even declaredthat Eva had been already released; but Hillel concluded that thiswas merely trifling. This parleying had taken place on the border; thetroops were about to force the passes on the following day. 

About an hour before sunset, on the very same day that Issachar, the sonof Selim, had taken more than one Cabala, some horsemen, in disorder, were observed from the walls by the inhabitants of Aleppo, gallopingover the plain. They were soon recognised as the cavalry of the Pasha, the irregular heralds, it was presumed, of a triumph achieved. HillelBesso, covered with sweat and dust, was among those who thus earlyarrived. He hastened at a rapid pace through the suburb of the city, scattering random phrases to those who inquired after intelligence as hepassed, until he reached the courtyard of his own house. 

''Tis well, ' he observed, as he closed the gate. 'A battle is a finething, but, for my part, I am not sorry to find myself at home. '

'What is that?' inquired Adam Besso, as a noise reached his ear. 

''Tis the letter of the first Cabala, ' replied Issachar, the son ofSelim. 

'Uncle, it is I, ' said Hillel, advancing. 

'Speak, ' said Adam Besso, in an agitated voice; 'my sight is dark. '

'Alas, I am alone!' said Hillel. 

'Bury me in Jehoshaphat, ' murmured Besso, as he sank back. 

'But, my uncle, there is hope. '

'Speak, then, of hope, ' replied Besso, with sudden vehemence, andstarting from his pillow. 

'Truly I have seen a child of the mountains, who persists in the talethat our Eva has escaped. '

'An enemy's device! Are the mountains ours? Where are the troops?'

'Were the mountains ours, I should not be here, my uncle. Look from theramparts, and you will soon see the plain covered with the troops, atleast with all of them who have escaped the matchlocks and the lances ofthe Ansarey. '

'Are they such sons of fire?'

'When the Queen of the Ansarey refused to deliver up the prisoners, anddeclared that Eva was not in her power, the Pasha resolved to penetratethe passes, in two detachments, on the following morning. The enemywas drawn up in array to meet us, but fled after a feeble struggle. Our artillery seemed to carry all before it. But, ' continued Hillel, shrugging his shoulders, 'war is not by any means a commercialtransaction. It seemed that, when we were on the point of victory, we were in fact entirely defeated. The enemy had truly made a feigneddefence, and had only allured us into the passes, where they fired onus from the heights, and rolled down upon our confused masses hugefragments of rock. Our strength, our numbers, and our cannon, onlyembarrassed us; there arose a confusion; the troops turned andretreated. And, when everything was in the greatest perplexity, and wewere regaining the plain, our rear was pursued by crowds of cavalry, Kurds, and other Giaours, who destroyed our men with their long lances, uttering horrible shouts. For my own part, I thought all was over, buta good horse is not a bad thing, and I am here, my uncle, having riddenfor twenty hours, nearly, without a pause. '

'And when did you see this child of the mountains who spoke of the lostone?' asked Besso, in a low and broken voice. 

'On the eve of the engagement, ' said Hillel. 'He had been sent to mewith a letter, but, alas! had been plundered on his way by our troops, and the letter had been destroyed or lost. Nevertheless, he induced themto permit him to reach my tent, and brought these words, that the everadorable had truly quitted the mountains, and that the lost letter hadbeen written to that effect by the chieftain of the Ansarey. '

'Is there yet hope! What sound is that?'

''Tis the letter of the second Cabala, ' said Issachar, the son of Selim. 

And at this moment entered the chamber a faithful slave, who made signsto the physician, upon which Issachar rose, and was soon engaged inearnest conversation with him who had entered, Hillel tending the sideof Besso. After a few minutes, Issachar approached the couch of hispatient, and said, 'Here is one, my lord and friend, who brings goodtidings of your daughter. '

'God of my fathers!' exclaimed Besso, passionately, and springing up. 

'Still, we must be calm, ' said Issachar; 'still, we must be calm. '

'Let me see him, ' said Besso. 

'It is one you know, and know well, ' said Issachar. 'It is the EmirFakredeen. '

'The son of my heart, ' said Besso, 'who brings me news that is honey inmy mouth. '

'I am here, my father of fathers, ' said Fakredeen, gliding to the sideof the couch. 

Besso grasped his hand, and looked at him earnestly in the face. 'Speakof Eva, ' he at length said, in a voice of choking agitation. 

'She is well, she is safe. Yes, I have saved her, ' said Fakredeen, burying his face in the pillow, exhausted by emotion. 'Yes, I havenot lived in vain. ' 'Your flag shall wave on a thousand castles, ' saidBesso. 'My child is saved, and she is saved by the brother of herheart. Entirely has the God of our fathers guarded over us. Henceforth, my Fakredeen, you have only to wish: we are the same. ' And Besso sankdown almost insensible; then he made a vain effort to rise again, murmuring 'Eva!'

'She will soon be here, ' said Fakredeen; 'she only rests awhile aftermany hardships. '

'Will the noble Emir refresh himself after his long journey?' saidHillel. 

'My heart is too elate for the body to need relief, ' said the Emir. 

'That may be very true, ' said Hillel. 'At the same time, for my part, I have always thought that the body should be maintained as well as thespirit. ' 'Withdraw from the side of the couch, ' said Issachar, the sonof Selim, to his companions. 'My lord and friend has swooned. '

Gradually the tide of life returned to Besso, gradually the heart beat, the hand grew warm. At length he slowly opened his eyes, and said, 'Ihave been dreaming of my child, even now I see her. '

Yes, so vivid had been the vision that even now, restored entirely tohimself, perfectly conscious of the locality and the circumstances thatsurrounded him, knowing full well that he was in his brother's house atAleppo, suffering and disabled, keenly recalling his recent interviewwith Fakredeen, notwithstanding all these tests of inward and outwardperception, still before his entranced and agitated vision hoveredthe lovely visage of his daughter, a little paler than usual, and anuncommon anxiety blended with its soft expression, but the same richeyes and fine contour of countenance that her father had so often gazedon with pride, and recalled in her absence with brooding fondness. 'Evennow I see her, ' said Besso. 

He could say no more, for the sweetest form in the world had locked himin her arms. 

''Tis the letter of the third Cabala, ' said Issachar, the son of Selim. 

CHAPTER LIX. 

 _Tancred Returns to Jerusalem_

TANCRED had profited by his surprise by the children of Rechab in thepasses of the Stony Arabia, and had employed the same tactics againstthe Turkish force. By a simulated defence on the borders, and by thecareful dissemination of false intelligence, he had allowed the Pashaand his troops to penetrate the mountains, and principally by a passwhich the Turks were assured by their spies that the Ansarey hadaltogether neglected. The success of these manoeuvres had been ascomplete as the discomfiture and rout of the Turks. Tancred, at the headof the cavalry, had pursued them into the plain, though he had halted, for an instant, before he quitted the mountains, to send a courier toAstarte from himself with the assurance of victory, and the horsetailsof the Pasha for a trophy. 

It so happened, however, that, while Tancred, with very few attendants, was scouring the plain, and driving before him a panic-struck multitude, who, if they could only have paused and rallied, might in a moment haveoverwhelmed him, a strong body of Turkish cavalry, who had enteredthe mountains by a different pass from that in which the principalengagement had taken place, but who, learning the surprise and defeat ofthe main body, had thought it wise to retreat in order and watch events, debouched at this moment from the high country into the plain and in therear of Tancred. Had they been immediately recognised by the fugitives, it would have been impossible for Tancred to escape; but the onlyimpression of the routed Turks was, that a reinforcement had joinedtheir foe, and their disorder was even increased by the appearance inthe distance of their own friends. This misapprehension must, however, in time, have been at least partially removed; but Baroni, whose quickglance had instantly detected the perilous incident, warned Tancredimmediately. 

'We are surrounded, my lord; there is only one course to pursue. Toregain the mountains is impossible; if we advance, we enter only ahostile country, and must be soon overpowered. We must make for theEastern desert. '

Tancred halted and surveyed the scene: he had with him not twenty men. The Turkish cavalry, several hundreds strong, had discovered theirquarry, and were evidently resolved to cut off their retreat. 

'Very well, ' said Tancred, 'we are well mounted, we must try the mettleof our steeds. Farewell, Gindaricâ! Farewell, gods of Olympus! To thedesert, which I ought never to have quitted!' and, so speaking, he andhis band dashed towards the East. 

Their start was, so considerable that they baffled their pursuers, who, however, did not easily relinquish their intended prey. Some shots inthe distance, towards nightfall, announced that the enemy had given upthe chase. After three hours of the moon, Tancred and his companionsrested at a well not far from a village, where they obtained somesupplies. An hour before dawn, they again pursued their way over a richflat country, uninclosed, yet partially cultivated, with, every now andthen, a village nestling in a jungle of Indian fig. 

It was the commencement of December, and the country was very parched;but the short though violent season of rain was at hand: this renovatesin the course of a week the whole face of Nature, and pours into littlemore than that brief space the supplies which in other regions aredistributed throughout the year. On the third day, before sunset, thecountry having gradually become desolate and deserted, consistingof vast plains covered with herds, with occasionally some wanderingTurkmans or Kurds, Tancred and his companions came within sight of abroad and palmy river, a branch of the Euphrates. 

The country round, far as the eye could range, was a kind of downscovered with a scanty herbage, now brown with heat and age. When Tancredhad gained an undulating height, and was capable of taking a moreextensive survey of the land, it presented, especially towards thesouth, the same features through an illimitable space. 

'The Syrian desert!' said Baroni; 'a fortnight later, and we shall seethis land covered with flowers and fragrant with aromatic herbs. '

'My heart responds to it, ' said Tancred. 'What is Damascus, with all itssumptuousness, to this sweet liberty?'

Quitting the banks of the river, they directed their course to thesouth, and struck as it were into the heart of the desert; yet, on themorrow, the winding waters again met them. And now there opened on theirsight a wondrous scene: as far as the eye could reach innumerable tents;strings of many hundred camels going to, or returning from, the waters;groups of horses picketed about; processions of women with vases ontheir heads visiting the palmy banks; swarms of children and dogs;spreading flocks; and occasionally an armed horseman bounding about theenvirons of the vast encampment. 

Although scarcely a man was visible when Tancred first caught a glimpseof this Arabian settlement, a band of horsemen suddenly sprang frombehind a rising ground and came galloping up to them to reconnoitre andto inquire. 

'We are brothers, ' said Baroni, 'for who should be the master of so manycamels but the lord of the Syrian pastures?'

'There is but one God, ' said the Bedouin, 'and none are lords of theSyrian pastures but the children of Rechab. '

'Truly, there is only one God, ' said Baroni; 'go tell the great Sheikhthat his friend the English prince has come here to give him a salaam ofpeace. '

Away bounded back the Bedouins, and were soon lost in the crowdeddistance. 

'All is right, ' said Baroni; 'we shall sup to-night under the pavilionof Amalek. '

'I visit him then, at length, in his beautiful pastures, ' said Tancred;'but, alas! I visit him alone. '

They had pulled up their horses, and were proceeding leisurely towardsthe encampment, when they observed a cavalcade emerging from the outerboundary of the settlement. This was Amalek himself, on one of hissteeds of race, accompanied by several of his leading Sheikhs, comingto welcome Tancred to his pavilion in the Syrian pastures. A joyfulsatisfaction sparkled in the bright eyes of the old chieftain, as, ata little distance, he waved his hand with graceful dignity, and thenpressed it to his heart. 

'A thousand salaams, ' he exclaimed, when he had reached Tancred; 'thereis but one God. I press you to my heart of hearts. There are also otherfriends, but they are not here. '

'Salaam, great Sheikh! I feel indeed we are brothers. There are friendsof whom we must speak, and indeed of many things. '

Thus conversing and riding side by side, Amalek and Tancred enteredthe camp. Nearly five thousand persons were collected together in thiswilderness, and two thousand warriors were prepared at a moment's noticeto raise their lances in the air. There were nearly as many horses, and ten times as many camels. This wilderness was the principal andfavourite resting-place of the great Sheikh of the children of Rechab, and the abundant waters and comparatively rich pasturage permitted himto gather around him a great portion of his tribe. 

The lamps soon gleamed, and the fires soon blazed; sheep were killed, bread baked, coffee pounded, and the pipe of honour was placed in thehands of Tancred. For an Arabian revel, the banquet was long and ratherelaborate. By degrees, however, the guests stole away; the women ceasedto peep through the curtains; and the children left off asking Baronito give them backsheesh. At length, Amalek and Tancred being left alone, the great Sheikh, who had hitherto evinced no curiosity as to the causeof the presence of his guest, said, 'There is a time for all things, foreating and for drinking, also for prayers. There is, also, a season toask questions. Why is the brother of the Queen of the English in theSyrian desert?'

'There is much to tell, and much to inquire, ' said Tancred; 'but beforeI speak of myself, let me know whether you can get me tidings of Eva, the daughter of Besso. '

'Is she not living in rooms with many divans?' said Amalek. 

'Alas!' said Tancred, 'she was a prisoner, and is now a fugitive. '

'What children of Gin have done this deed? Are there strange camelsdrinking at my wells? Is it some accursed Kurd that has stolen hersheep; or some Turkman, blacker than night, that has hankered after herbracelets?'

'Nothing of all this, yet more than all this. All shall be told to you, great Sheikh, yet before I speak, tell me again, can you get me tidingsof Eva, the daughter of Besso?'

'Can I fire an arrow that will hit its mark?' said Amalek; 'tell me thecity of Syria where Eva the daughter of Besso may be found, and I willsend her a messenger that would reach her even in the bath, were shethere. '

Tancred then gave the great Sheikh a rapid sketch of what had occurredto Eva, and expressed his fear that she might have been interceptedby the Turkish troops. Amalek decided that she must be at Aleppo, and, instantly summoning one of his principal men, he gave instructions forthe departure of a trusty scout in that direction. 

'Ere the tenth day shall have elapsed, ' said the great Sheikh, 'weshall have sure tidings. And now let me know, prince of England, bywhat strange cause you could have found yourself in the regions of thosechildren of hell, the Ansarey, who, it is well known, worship Eblis inevery obscene form. '

'It is a long tale, ' said Tancred, 'but I suppose it must be told; butnow that you have relieved my mind by sending to Aleppo, I can hardlyforget that I have ridden for more than three days, and with littlepause. I am not, alas! a true Arab, though I love Arabia and Arabianthoughts; and, indeed, my dear friend, had we not met again, it isimpossible to say what might have been my lot, for I now feel that Icould not have much longer undergone the sleepless toil I have of lateencountered. If Eva be safe, I am content, or would wish to feel so;but what is content, and what is life, and what is man? Indeed, greatSheikh, the longer I live and the more I think----' and here thechibouque dropped gently from Tancred's mouth, and he himself sunk uponthe carpet. 

CHAPTER LX. 

 _The Road to Bethany_

BESSO is better, ' said the Consul Pasqualigo to Barizy of the Tower, ashe met him on a December morning in the Via Dolorosa. 

'Yes, but he is by no means well, ' quickly rejoined Barizy. 'Thephysician of the English prince told me----'

'He has not seen the physician of the English prince!' screamedPasqualigo, triumphantly. 

'I know that, ' said Barizy, rallying; 'but the physician of the Englishprince says for flesh-wounds----'

'There are no flesh-wounds, ' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 'They have allhealed; 'tis an internal shock. '

'For internal shocks, ' said Barizy of the Tower, 'there is nothing likerosemary stewed with salt, and so keep on till it simmers. '

'That is very well for a bruise, ' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 

'A bruise is a shock, ' said Barizy of the Tower. 

'Besso should have remained at Aleppo, ' said the Consul. 

'Besso always comes to Jerusalem when he is indisposed, ' said Barizy;'as he well says, 'tis the only air that can cure him; and, if hecannot be cured, why, at least, he can be buried in the Valley ofJe-hoshaphat. '

'He is not at Jerusalem, ' said the Consul Pasqualigo, maliciously. 

'How do you mean?' said Barizy, somewhat confused. 'I am now going toinquire after him, and smoke some of his Latakia. '

'He is at Bethany, ' said the Consul. 

'Hem!' said Barizy, mysteriously. 'Bethany! Will that marriage come offnow, think you? I always fancy, when, eh?----'

'She will not marry till her father has recovered, ' said the Consul. 

'This is a curious story, ' said Barizy. 'The regular troops beaten bythe Kurds. '

'They were not Kurds, ' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 'They were Russiansin disguise. Some cannon have been taken, which were cast at St. Petersburg; and, besides, there is a portfolio of state papers found ona Cossack, habited as a Turkman, which betrays all. The documents are tobe published in numbers, with explanatory commentaries. Consul-GeneralLaurella writes from Damascus that the Eastern question is more alivethan ever. We are on the eve of great events. '

'You don't say so?' said Barizy of the Tower, losing his presenceof mind from this overwhelming superiority of information. 'I alwaysthought so. Palmerston will never rest till he gets Jerusalem. '

'The English must have markets, ' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 

'Very just, ' said Barizy of the Tower. 'There will be a great openinghere. I think of doing a little myself in cottons; but the house ofBesso will monopolise everything. '

'I don't think the English can do much here, ' said the Consul, shakinghis head. 'What have we to give them in exchange? The people here hadbetter look to Austria, if they wish to thrive. The Austrians also havecottons, and they are Christians. They will give you their cottons, andtake your crucifixes. '

'I don't think I can deal in crucifixes, ' said Barizy of the Tower. 

'I tell you what, if you won't, your cousin Barizy of the Gate will. Iknow he has given a great order to Bethlehem. '

'The traitor!' exclaimed Barizy of the Tower. 'Well, if people willpurchase crucifixes and nothing else, they must be supplied. Commercecivilises man. '

'Who is this?' exclaimed the Consul Pasqualigo. 

A couple of horsemen, well mounted, but travel-worn, and followed by aguard of Bedouins, were coming up the Via Dolorosa, and stopped at thehouse of Hassan Nejid. 

''Tis the English prince, ' said Barizy of the Tower. 'He has been absentsix months; he has been in Egypt. '

'To see the temples of the fire-worshippers, and to shoot crocodiles. They all do that, ' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 

'How glad he must be to get back to Jerusalem, ' said Barizy of theTower. 'There may be larger cities, but there are certainly none sobeautiful. '

'The most beautiful city in the world is the city of Venice, ' saidPasqualigo. 

'You have never been there, ' said Barizy. 

'But it was built principally by my ancestors, ' said the Consul, 'and Ihave a print of it in my hall. '

'I never heard that Venice was comparable to Jerusalem, ' said Barizy. 

'Jerusalem is, in every respect, an abode fit for swine, compared withVenice, ' said Pasqualigo. 

'I would have you to know, Monsieur Pasqualigo, who call yourselfconsul, that the city of Jerusalem is not only the city of God, but hasever been the delight and pride of man. '

'Pish!' said Pasqualigo. 

'Poh!' said Barizy. 

'I am not at all surprised that Besso got out of it as soon as hepossibly could. '

'You would not dare to say these things in his presence, ' said Barizy. 

'Who says "dare" to the representative of a European Power!'

'I say "dare" to the son of the janissary of the Austrian Vice-Consul atSidon. '

'You will hear more of this, ' said Pasqualigo, fiercely. 'I shall make arepresentation to the Inter-nonce at Stamboul. '

'You had better go there yourself, as you are tired of El Khuds. '

Pasqualigo, not having a repartee ready, shot at his habitual comrade aglance of withering contempt, and stalked away. 

In the meantime, Tancred dismounted and entered for the first time hishouse at Jerusalem, of which he had been the nominal tenant for half ayear. Baroni was quite at home, as he knew the house in old days, andhad also several times visited, on this latter occasion, the suite ofTancred. Freeman and True-man, who had been forwarded on by the BritishConsul at Beiroot, like bales of goods, were at their post, bowing asif their master had just returned from a club. But none of the importantmembers of the body were at this moment at hand. Colonel Brace wasdining with the English Consul on an experimental plum-pudding, preliminary to the authentic compound, which was to appear in a fewdays. It was supposed to be the first time that a Christmas puddinghad been concocted at Jerusalem, and the excitement in the circle wasconsiderable. The Colonel had undertaken to supervise the preparation, and had been for several days instilling the due instructions into aSyrian cook, who had hitherto only succeeded in producing a resultwhich combined the specific gravity of lead with the general flavour andappearance of a mass of kneaded dates, in a state of fermentation aftera lengthy voyage. The Rev. Mr. Bernard was at Bethlehem, assisting theBishop in catechising some converts who had passed themselves off astrue children of Israel, but who were in fact, older Christiansthan either of their examinants, being descendants of some Nestorianfamilies, who had settled in the south of Palestine in the earlier agesof Christianity. As for Dr. Roby, he was culling simples in the valleyof the Jordan; and thus it happened that, when Tancred at length didevince some disposition to settle down quietly under his own roof, andavail himself of the services and society of his friends, not one ofthem was present to receive and greet him. Tancred roamed about thehouse, surveyed his court and garden, sighed, while Baroni rewarded anddismissed their escort. 'I know not how it is, ' he at length said to hisintendant, 'but I never could have supposed that I could have felt sosad and spiritless at Jerusalem. '

'It is the reaction, my lord, after a month's wandering in the desert. It is always so: the world seems tame. '

'I am disappointed that Besso is not here. I am most anxious to seehim. '

'Shall I send for the Colonel, my lord?' said Baroni, shaking Tancred'sArabian cloak. 

'Well, I think I should let him return naturally, ' said Tancred;'sending for him is a scene; and I do not know why, Baroni, but Ifeel--I feel unstrung. I am surprised that there are no letters fromEngland; and yet I am rather glad too, for a letter----'

'Received some months after its date, ' said Baroni, 'is like the visitof a spectre. I shudder at the sight of it. '

'Heigho!' said Tancred, stretching his arm, and half-speaking tohimself, 'I wish the battle of Gindarics had never ceased, but that, like some hero of enchantment, I had gone on for ever fighting. '

'Ah! there is nothing like action, ' said Baroni, unscrewing his pistols. 

'But what action is there in this world?' said Tancred. 'The mostenergetic men in Europe are mere busybodies. Empires are now governedlike parishes, and a great statesman is only a select vestryman. Andthey are right: unless we bring man nearer to heaven, unless governmentbecome again divine, the insignificance of the human scheme mustparalyse all effort. '

'Hem!' said Baroni, kneeling down and opening Tancred's rifle-case. Thesubject was getting a little too deep for him. 'I perceive, ' he saidto himself, 'that my lord is very restless. There is something at thebottom of his mind which, perhaps, he does not quite comprehend himself;but it will come out. ' Tancred passed the day alone in reading, orwalking about his room with an agitated and moody step. Often when hiseye rested on the page, his mind wandered from the subject, and he wasfrequently lost in profound and protracted reverie. The evening drewon; he retired early to his room, and gave orders that he was not to bedisturbed. At a later hour, Colonel Brace returned, having succeeded inhis principal enterprise, and having also sung the national anthem. He was greatly surprised to hear that Lord Montacute had returned; butBaroni succeeded in postponing the interview until the morrow. An hourafter the Colonel, the Rev. Mr. Bernard returned from Bethlehem. He wasin great tribulation, as he had been pursued by some of the vagabonds ofthat ruffianly district; a shot had even been fired after him; but thiswas only to frighten him. The fact is, the leader of the band was hisprincipal catechumen, who was extremely desirous of appropriating a verysplendid copy of the Holy Writings, richly bound, and adorned with massygolden clasps, which the Duchess of Bellamont had presented to the Rev. Mr. Bernard before his departure, and which he always, as a sort ofhomage to one whom he sincerely respected, displayed on any eminentinstance of conversion. 

The gates of the city were closed when Dr. Roby returned, laden withmany rare balsams. The consequence was, he was obliged to find quartersin a tomb in the valley of Jehoshaphat. As his attendant was withoutfood, when his employer had sunk into philosophic repose, he supped offthe precious herbs and roots, and slaked his thirst with a draught fromthe fountain of Siloah. 

Tancred passed a night of agitating dreams. Sometimes he was in thestarry desert, sometimes in the caverned dungeons of Gindarics. Then, again, the scene changed to Bellamont Castle, but it would seem thatFakredeen was its lord; and when Tancred rushed forward to embrace hismother, she assumed the form of the Syrian goddess, and yet the face wasthe face of Eva. Though disturbed, he slept, and when he woke, he wasfor a moment quite unconscious of being at Jerusalem. Although withina week of Christmas, no sensible difference had yet occurred in theclimate. The golden sun succeeded the silver moon, and both reigned ina clear blue sky. You may dine at night on the terrace of your house atJerusalem in January, and find a serene and benignant atmosphere. 

Tancred rose early; no one was stirring in the house except the nativeservants, and Mr. Freeman, who was making a great disturbance about hotwater. Tancred left a message with this gentleman for the Colonel andhis companions, begging that they might all meet at breakfast, andadding that he was about to stroll for half an hour. Saying this, hequitted the house, and took his way by the gate of Stephen to the Mountof Olives. 

It was a delicious morn, wonderfully clear, and soft, and fresh. Itseemed a happy and a thriving city, that forlorn Jerusalem, as Tancred, from the heights of Olivet, gazed upon its noble buildings, and itscupolaed houses of freestone, and its battlemented walls and loftygates. Nature was fair, and the sense of existence was delightful. It seemed to Tancred that a spicy gale came up the ravines of thewilderness, from the farthest Arabia. 

Lost in prolonged reverie, the hours flew on. The sun was mounting inthe heavens when Tancred turned his step, but, instead of approachingthe city, he pursued a winding path in an opposite direction. That pathled to Bethany. 

CHAPTER LXI. 

 _Arrival of the Duke and Duchess_

THE crest of the palm tree in the garden of Eva glittered in thedeclining sun; and the lady of Bethany sat in her kiosk on the marginof the fountain, unconsciously playing with a flower, and gazing inabstraction on the waters. She had left Tancred with her father, nowconvalescent. They had passed the morning together, talking over thestrange events that had occurred since they first became acquaintedon this very spot; and now the lady of Bethany had retired to her ownthoughts. 

A sound disturbed her; she looked up and recognised Tancred. 

'I could not refrain from seeing the sun set on Arabia, ' he said; 'I hadalmost induced the noble Besso to be my companion. '

'The year is too old, ' said Eva, not very composed. 

'They should be midsummer nights, ' said Tancred, 'as on my first visithere; that hour thrice blessed!' 'We know not what is blessed in thisworld, ' said Eva, mournfully. 

'I feel I do, ' murmured Tancred; and he also seated himself on themargin of the fountain. 

'Of all the strange incidents and feelings that we have been talkingover this day, ' said Eva, 'there seems to me but one result; and thatis, sadness. '

'It is certainly not joy, ' said Tancred. 

'There comes over me a great despondency, ' said Eva, 'I know not why, my convictions are as profound as they were, my hopes should not be lesshigh, and yet----'

'And what?' said Tancred, in a low, sweet voice, for she hesitated. 

'I have a vague impression, ' said Eva, sorrowfully, 'that there havebeen heroic aspirations wasted, and noble energies thrown away; and yet, perhaps, ' she added, in a faltering tone, 'there is no one to blame. Perhaps, all this time, we have been dreaming over an unattainable end, and the only source of deception is our own imagination. '

'My faith is firm, ' said Tancred; 'but if anything could make it falter, it would be to find you wavering. '

'Perhaps it is the twilight hour, ' said Eva, with a faint smile. 'Itsometimes makes one sad. '

'There is no sadness where there is sympathy, ' said Tancred, in a lowvoice. 'I have been, I am sad, when I am alone: but when I am with you, my spirit is sustained, and would be, come what might. '

'And yet----' said Eva; and she paused. 

'And what?'

'Your feelings cannot be what they were before all this happened; whenyou thought only of a divine cause, of stars, of angels, and of ourpeculiar and gifted land. No, no; now it is all mixed up with intrigue, and politics, and management, and baffled schemes, and cunning arts ofmen. You may be, you are, free from all this, but your faith is not thesame. You no longer believe in Arabia. '

'Why, thou to me art Arabia, ' said Tancred, advancing and kneeling ather side. 'The angel of Arabia, and of my life and spirit! Talk notto me of faltering faith: mine is intense. Talk not to me of leaving adivine cause: why, thou art my cause, and thou art most divine! O Eva!deign to accept the tribute of my long agitated heart! Yes, I too, likethee, am sometimes full of despair; but it is only when I remember thatI love, and love, perhaps, in vain!'

He had clasped her hand; his passionate glance met her eye, as he lookedup with adoration to a face infinitely distressed. Yet she withdrew nother hand, as she murmured, with averted head, 'We must not talk of thesethings; we must not think of them. You know all. '

'I know of nothing, I will know of nothing, but of my love. '

'There are those to whom I belong; and to whom you belong. Yes, ' shesaid, trying to withdraw her hand, 'fly, fly from me, son of Europe andof Christ!'

'I am a Christian in the land of Christ, ' said Tancred, 'and I kneel toa daughter of my Redeemer's race. Why should I fly?'

'Oh! this is madness!'

'Say, rather, inspiration, ' said Tancred, 'for I will not quit thisfountain by which we first met until I am told, as you now will tellme, ' he added, in a tone of gushing tenderness, 'that our uniteddestinies shall advance the sovereign purpose of our lives. Talk not tome of others, of those who have claims on you or on myself. I have nokindred, no country, and, as for the ties that would bind you, shallsuch world-worn bonds restrain our consecrated aim? Say but you love me, and I will trample them to the dust. '

The head of Eva fell upon his shoulder. He impressed an embrace upon hercheek. It was cold, insensible. Her hand, which he still held, seemed tohave lost all vitality. Overcome by contending emotions, the principleof life seemed to have deserted her. Tancred laid her reclining figurewith gentleness on the mats of the kiosk; he sprinkled her pale facewith some drops from the fountain; he chafed her delicate hand. Her eyesat length opened, and she sighed. He placed beneath her head some ofthe cushions that were at hand. Recovering, she slightly raised herself, leant upon the marble margin of the fountain, and looked about her witha wildered air. 

At this moment a shout was heard, repeated and increased; soon the soundof many voices and the tramp of persons approaching. The vivid but brieftwilight had died away. Almost suddenly it had become night. The voicesbecame more audible, the steps were at hand. Tancred recognised hisname, frequently repeated. Behold a crowd of many persons, several ofthem bearing torches. There was Colonel Brace in the van; on his rightwas the Rev. Mr. Bernard; on his left, was Dr. Roby. Freeman and Truemanand several guides and native servants were in the rear, most of themproclaiming the name of Lord Montacute. 

'I am here, ' said Tancred, advancing from the kiosk, pale and agitated. 'Why am I wanted?'

Colonel Brace began to explain, but all seemed to speak at the sametime. 

The Duke and Duchess of Bellamont had arrived at Jerusalem. 

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